


Crewt (A Credence x Newt fanfic)

by Blinxi



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, British Character, M/M, Magic, New York City, Secluded
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-03-04
Packaged: 2018-09-13 21:25:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 31,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9142903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blinxi/pseuds/Blinxi
Summary: Credence, in obscurus form, follows Newt to Britain and takes up residence in his home. Returning to a human state, Newt and Credence grow close.





	1. Preface

**Author's Note:**

> So this is based after the ending of Fantastic Beasts and where to find them (movie 1). Please comment if you're there. If you have any suggestions for my mediocre writing...say so. Bit of smut, so warning.

Newt Scamander's POV

Guilt is a strange emotion; unlike jealousy or anger, which are healed over by time, guilt only strengthens.

Newt knows guilt well. It came in the form of him being expelled from school, and recently when the creatures who relied on Newt for life were briefly taken away in his suitcase. The greatest guilt of late was the girl who was consumed by an obscurus. It all accumulated. Since his chance to save the poor girl was snatched away, Newt had made it his business to help Credence Barebone. Newt was, he knew, one of the only wizards to have become intimately acquainted with an obscurus. If anyone could help Credence, Newt could have. If he had gotten closer to Credence, if he had had more time, Newt was sure he could have found a way to extract the obscurus. He had come so close to saving the boy. And then... magical law enforcement turned up and Graves...wait, no, Grindelwald appeared, and Newt's chance to save an innocent was gone. Credence was trumped. The image of Credence being obliterated plays over in Newt's nightmares, and with the obscurus in Newt's suitcase a constant reminder, it didn't look like time would be an adequate healer for the piercing guilt Newt now knew. Self-condemnation became an integral part of Newt's life.

Determined to cast this guilt to the basement, Newt had returned to his home in Britain and settled into writing his book with great fervor. He sat in nothing but a blanket for hours upon hours, sparing thought only to magic food to his table and moving only to tend to the creatures in his suitcase. He became engrossed in the art of distraction. But when you're alone in a silent house, it's difficult to not be overwhelmed by loneliness.

It had been a week since Newt's return. Since Credence Barebone was killed. Newt had barely left the house, and this time it wasn't because he was socially anxious. What troubled Newt was the fact that Fantastic Beasts and Where To Find Them was making barely any progress, despite all the hours Newt had spent on it. Guilt-ridden thoughts of the obscurus and the loneliness enacted by Tina Goldstein, who was all the way in New York, dominated Newt's mind.

When Newt went to bed to try to get some shut-eye, it was then that the loneliness prevailed, and it was more daunting than ever. Without the action of New York, Newt had slowly started to become a recluse. In the dark silence of 11pm, absent of the city sounds, Newt shivered despite the warmth of his duvet. He had to write that book. Then, and only then, he could return to New York to try living again.

 

Credence Barebone's POV

Her eyes used to prick and prod. Under her glare, the darkness inside Credence would soften and grow silent: that's how terrifying she was. He wanted none of her civil strife; he just wanted to hunger and twist with monsters. At least the dark mass inside Credence allowed oblivion. His adoptive mother -Mary Lou, head of the Second Salem anti-witch Society- took that oblivion away when she seized Credence's belt, a cane or a ruler. The mass inside Credence writhed under her power.

For a long time Credence thought it was fear or anger. Mere thoughts and feelings. But the darkness was spinning and building into a knife-point of force inside Credence's chest. Compacted and straining in it's bonds, it was going to kill him. He was sure of it. One day, the tension reached a climax. And then, like a spray of blood, it made it's mark on the world. The mass was not thoughts; it was a concrete being. Existent. Credence saw the evidence by the angry red mark on his mother's hand.

They called him a monster. If that is what they will call him, Credence thought, he would act as a monster should. He wouldn't be a weak squib; he would use the power gifted to him by it. 

After that...everything went downhill. It began when Credence killed his mother. Was spurred on by Grave's betrayal. Credence's slow drift to the bottomless pit became a free fall into terrifyingly empty darkness. He almost grappled with the side of the void on the way down though; Credence, or it, was distracted. He was so nearly saved by what was now a warm light in Credence's memory. What was his name? Newt, Credence thinks. He seemed to understand. He said the thing inside Credence was called an Obscurus. When Credence learnt that the mass had a name, that it wasn't actually a part of Credence, hope appeared for a brief second. A holy moment.  
But then Graves, the bastard, turned up again, and Credence fell to the void. Shot apart by a group of witches and wizards on the way. Credence thinks his mother was right all along; the magical community really is horrible.

Well, that's what Credence thought. Now he's non-existent. Consumed by the parasite. He holds onto existence by a hair, formed by hope. Light. The thread dangled down the void, seen in the form of Newt boarding a boat. Credence- or the ghost of himself- followed the light. He would have to build his mind. Gain sanity. He could learn to build a body. And then, he could ask for help. Something Credence had never been good at. But he now knows; unless you ask for help, you're going to end up in a very, very bad place.

Credence's will lead him to a house filled with Newt's presence. And there, Credence begins the hardest part of the battle for life.


	2. Parasite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Credence finds his way to a body. I'm not so good at previews...so read ahead, dear ghost readers! Btw...how do you do italics here?

Newt's POV

It was 12 am. Pitch black and silent. Newt's thoughts of Credence and the image of him being blown apart by spells played over and over, once again. But something startles Newt out of his reverie: a sound. Newt lies very still, ears pricked, but nothing further happens. Newt drifts back into his thoughts.

And then, something terrifying makes itself known to Newt, and this time Newt knows it isn't in his head: footsteps. Outside the bedroom, and in the hallway. The footsteps are soft, and without shoes; there is no heel echoing on the floorboards. Yet, it sounds obscenely loud in the hush.

Fear grips Newt tight, but the practice in New York -dealing with alarming circumstances- gripped him tighter, and Newt lunged from his bed, grabbing his wand and flinging his arm toward the door, whispering none too quietly, "Lumos!"

The white light of Newt's long, thin wand exposed every item in the room in sharp contrast. Wide-eyed, Newt's stared at the doorway, which stood empty. The footsteps had ceased. But crouching low and stiff as a board in fear, Newt could hear the intruder's breathing. Harsh. Struggling. In the silence, the sound of the breath struck a chord deep inside Newt. The resonation of that chord brought on pure terror, tingling up his spine, making it's way to his mouth, and just as Newt was about to word the spell to blast his house to smithereens, the intruder stepped out from the hallway.

And then Newt knew that this was another cruel nightmare.

Credence Barebone -the dead boy - stood in the doorway. His black clothes were tattered, his hair poking everywhere. His skin was pale; the colour of skimmed milk under the glare of Newt's wand. His features were sharp under the light, the veins in his hands blue. He looked half dead. /He is dead, idiot!/ Newt became aware of his mouth hanging open, and snapped it shut. Credence remained still, wincing at Newt's wand, cowering submissively. He looked like a shadow. Was he an apparition? He sure as hell looked real. What do you do when you find a boy who is meant to be dead, but is clearly not a ghost? A reasonable side of Newt makes it's way through the shell of surprise and fear, and says, /Speak to him Newt!/ So Newt did, in the clearest voice he could muster (which wasn't much under the circumstances),

"Credence," Credence jerked his head up, meeting Newt's eyes, his gaze glazed but clearing, "Are you...ok?"

 

CREDENCE POV

Credence wonders. Is he ok? He felt better than he had before without a body. Like a concrete being, not just a thought. He existed, and that was something. He was in what looked like a bedroom. And Newt was there, the person Credence needed to see. Had battled against the parasite to see. Had formed a body to see. But the darkness wouldn't tolerate the sanity of it's host for long. Already traction was slipping. So Credence seized his chance for help, and desperately said,

"It's still inside me." Under the light, Credence could see Newt's silhouette stiffen.

Now with urgency, and with less uncertainty, Newt spoke,

"The obscurus?"

Was that was it was? Credence tried to grapple with the word. But he was so, so weak. He barely stood. He was hanging by a hair onto lucidity. Credence now spoke quickly, before he fell back into the chasm,

"Yes. I'm disappearing though...it's coming...I don't have long-" At this, Credence sank to the floor, his knees hitting hard. He tried not to let his head hit the carpet, but the ground was coming up fast-

He was seized by a pair of hands, radiating warmth. A chest supported Credence's head, the hands under his arms. The warmth leeched from the flesh, and it was surreal to Credence. Contact with a real human being in this state ignited in Credence an even stronger wish to live. A will to survive to connect to someone. But consciousness was leaking away like water from a broken fish bowl...

A distinct but soft voice reached through a fading world: "Credence. Credence! It's ok, I'm going to help you. Fight it!" The voice was so close, but vanishing. Credence struggled to make his tongue move to say something in order to tether and anchor himself back in reality, but the weight of /it/ dragged his limbs down. The panic seized Credence with a force impossible to combat, but the utmost fear spurred him on like a colt to spend the last of his willpower reaching for the warmth, which lifted him from the ground and carried him, limp and numb, away.


	3. Reality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Commenters, where you at? I hope you've gotten this far. If so, you have my eternal gratitude. Kiss kiss. and p.s. I don't do summaries. Sorry!

Credence's POV

If Credence had not had warm human contact, he would have left the plane of reality and returned to being a black, formless mass. Newt's contact didn't keep him all there, but his body was at least...real. Dimensional. Credence felt it, from a distance, carried to a place and laid down on a flat surface. He heard distant, desperate words. The urgency of Newt's far-away voice encouraged Credence to continue the battle against oblivion. He hung onto concrete senses like touch and hearing, and when he did, the darkness seemed to fade. And slowly, Credence didn't have to try so hard to hold onto reality. 

The dark mass hung onto Credence though. In unconsciousness, Credence saw his own existence. He had a body in this nightmare. He looked down on his chest and saw black, writhing ribbons treading through his flesh, his magic leached by the parasite. It was part of him, the darkness. In disgust, Credence reached up in the dream state, drawing strength from reality's senses, particularly Newt's warmth, and gripped and then yanked the obscurus from him. Repulsion made Credence throw it from him, and for a moment, it drifted without a host. It made no sound as it disintegrated, and became ashes in a metaphorical wind. Credence felt distant victory dawning, but with such a large part of Credence now destroyed, agony hit. And Credence yelled out.

Newt's POV

Newt didn't know what to do. Credence was in his arms, actually alive! But if Newt didn't act quickly, he would be gone again, consumed by the obscurus. In Newt's arms, Credence seemed to grow lighter and lighter, his already thin frame more pronounced. Like he was, literally, fading away. Losing a battle.

Newt hurriedly laid Credence down on the floorboards, his hands hovering, unsure what to do. He cast a few spells, did what little he could, was about to contact the Magical Maladies for emergency help and start brewing some form of potion in desperation when Credence groaned, and then, started to yell in what was alarming pain. Features contorted, Credence was suddenly thrashing on the floor, eyes shut tight. Before he could bang his head against the floor, Newt threw himself down and pinned Credence's head, while holding his taunt arms to the ground with his knees in an effort to stop him hurting himself...and, almost as soon as Newt thought he was going to cry in distress and Credence was going to have a cardiac arrest, he went abruptly silent and still. Newt lifted his head and saw a track of tears glistening on Credence's face. His eyes were open and a stare settled on Newt. Newt hastily let go of Credence, and scrambled to kneel over his head, gazing into his dark eyes, searching for a hint of the obscurus. There was none.

"Bloody hell," a grin stretching his face, Newt exclaimed, "You...you're ok!"

Credence's lips shifted to form a weak smile, before he settled into a serious expression. His eyes wondered and landed on Newt's arm beside his head. He reached out, and for a second alarm surged through Newt, and he almost shyed away from the contact, but he managed to stay still as Credence gripped Newt's arm tight, and closed his eyes, saying nothing. He seemed to just want human contact. /Well of course he does... he's been alone for so long/, Newt reminded himself. He observed Credence's face: hollow, but...well, almost healthy. Impossibly healthier than he had been when he appeared in Newt's doorway.

"Credence?" Credence's eyes flew open. "How do you feel?" Credence's eyebrows met for a moment, before he croaked,

"I think it's gone." His hand remained on Newt's arm. Newt glanced at it, and when his eyes landed back on Credence, he realized Credence was watching. But he seemed to register Newt's discomfort, and withdrew his hand to hug himself closely. Newt sat back on his heels.

"Are you cold?" Newt asked. He didn't wait for an answer, "I'll grab a blanket and," Newt glanced at Credence's ragged clothing, "Give you some spare clothes. You've been through..." Newt huffed and rubbed the back of his neck, "...A huge deal." Credence nodded silently before whispering, softly, "Thank you."

Credence's vulnerability was obvious, but a thought hovered at the forefront of Newt's mind: What if the obscurus was there, but hidden for now? Just because Credence's eyes were clear of the fog that came with an obscurus didn't mean he was safe. He should contact the Magical Maladies. Newt turned with the intention of getting the blanket and clothes, adding on, "I'm just going to contact someone..." when Credence sat up suddenly, croaking a desperate "No!"

Newt's eyes widened, and Credence shrunk down, eyes on the floor. "I mean..." he continued, "... would it be OK if I...stayed here? At least for the night?" Newt took in Credence's red eyes, his pointy shoulders. He needed food and shelter, but Newt himself needed to know if anything dangerous was present in the room. Credence seemed to see Newt's uncertainty, so he lifted his head, continuing, "I promise, it's gone. I...grabbed it, and threw it, and it's...gone. I just needed some contact to get me through was all." Newt was still hesitant, but the relief at Credence being alive resurged, and he felt a deep pity for Credence. The last thing he needed was people poking and prodding, or the New York magical government finding out the Obscurial was still alive and in Britain. The guilt Newt had felt for so long at Credence's 'death' had finally disappeared.   
He just looked so tired. What could any present obscurus do when Credence was sheltered and calm anyway? The obscurus would come out only when Credence was distressed, right? With that in mind, Newt nodded, a silent acceptance.

He held out a hand to help Credence from the cold floor, and Credence reached for it. The picture of bliss lit up his features when they gripped hands, and then Newt knew he was doing the right thing.


	4. Closer

Credence's POV

As Newt searched for clothes for Credence to borrow, Credence rested on a chair and thought.

The parasite was gone, and Credence had a second chance at life. Whether that life turned out better than the last, Credence would have to decide: he didn't want to pick up where he had left off. For a while, Credence had feared Newt would take him to undergo examination, or worse, return him to New York. Credence missed his sisters very much, but the magical community of New York -who seemed to be quite violent- probably wouldn't react well to Credence's return. Perhaps he sneak into the city, find his sisters and leave? Credence didn't think he could muster the courage to do so. What if wizards and witches had some kind of way to tell if Credence was around? Think he was still a danger? Credence hadn't seen much magic in the past months, but so far it was evident that magic was only used for torturous means. The obscurus had been magic, hadn't it? It was evil. So was the mob who attempted to kill him with their magic, and Graves, who tortured Newt...the wand is a weapon, Credence thought darkly. The wand causes pain. And then Credence remembers: Newt has one.

He was distracted as Newt came back into the hallway, a bundle of clothes in his arms. Newt smiled sheepishly, but Credence couldn't help but eye the wand in the waistband of Newt's pants. Newt noticed Credence's stare, and his smile dropped. Credence felt sorry for appearing to be an overly cautious house guest: Newt was a good person. Without him, Credence would not have found to the will to become himself again. So he mustered up the most thankful face he can, and tried not to look at the wand when he received the clothes. That close, Credence could see the spokes of Newt's eyes; they're emerald, with a tinge of hazel. There's not much green in New York, but Credence likes the colour.

Newt beckoned Credence to follow him down the hallway toward a narrow flight of stairs, saying, "I haven't got a spare bedroom, but I have the attic." Newt turns, and chuckles at Credence's look of horror.

"Don't worry, I'm up here there all the time working on writing. There's a window and a bed, so you've got a view of the stars, if you like." They strode up into the room, and Newt removed his wand. He didn't see Credence take a small step back, wary despite his eagerness. Newt muttered something, and all of a sudden, candles lit up around the room, and Credence could see that the attic was not a cold, dark place but quite cozy. One entire wall was covered in books, and drapes hung around, framing posters of odd looking animals. The room exuded character. It wasn't spotless, but Credence liked it that way: back at home, everything used to be sterile and souless.

Credence realized a smile was stretching his lips. Odd. He turned to see Newt, taking in his expression. His eyes are bright. Abruptly, Credence felt a surge of overwhelming appreciation, and he struggled not to reach out to Newt to convey his emotions. Credence doesn't use words, but he's never had the opportunity to use body language in the form of a hug or a hand either; his mother taught him that. There's always been a chasm between him and everyone else, and it still pained Credence even in this supremely safe place in the presence of one of the kindest people Credence has ever met.

Newt's POV

Not many people have even been in Newt's house, let alone seen his most private room. But Newt can tell Credence isn't one to judge. He's like an open book. And right now, Newt can see Credence's smile (which Newt is tempted to say suits him well) morphing into something like sadness. And Newt wanted to know why. Concern pushes him,

"What's wrong Credence?" Credence turned to Newt, mumbling, "Nothing." He then said with more confidence, "Thank you for all of this." It's a simple statement, but Newt could see a world of gratitude in Credence's eyes. He remembered the horrible place Credence had come from. So, in a moment of uncharacteristic emotion, Newt made the decision to place a hand on Credence's shoulder, trying to convey something like It's ok. And to Newt's surprise, Credence moved to face Newt directly. He took one step forward, lifted his arms and, - oh crap here it comes - embraced Newt tightly. Touchy one isn't he? Newt pushed away his cynical thought irritantly. Credence was hugging him, and to Newt's surprise, it felt nice to have somebody actually touch him, let alone hug him. Nobody but his mother hugged him. Despite Newt always shying away from human contact, Credence's innocence struck in Newt a wish to reciprocate, so he too wrapped his arms around Credence. Credence leaned into the hug, and any tension which had been present instantly disappeared.

After a time, when Newt deemed that this had been the longest, most surprisingly comfortable hug of his life, he let go. Credence hurriedly turned away, and Newt could tell he was hiding his face. Perhaps embarrassed? There was nothing to say, so Newt turned, saying a warm Goodnight to Credence before he left down the stairs at a pace faster than necessary. Only when he reached his bedroom did Newt feel a wetness on his shoulder, and realised that Credence must have been crying.


	5. The Past Starts Right now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> /this/ means italics. Please, comment if you exist, just so I know I'm posting this for someone.

Newts POV

As Newt lay down in his bed and he heard the creak of floorboards above him. He laid awake thinking of what he was going to do with Credence, and what he would tell the authorities, who at some point would need to know. How would he explain to them how Credence, an American wizard -and past obscurial - magically came back to life and was now in Britain in Newt's home? Come to think of it, how did Credence get into Newt's house? Perhaps, in the form of an obscurus, he could travel places a human being couldn't? Newt hadn't an inkling of an idea how Credence had come to now be alive and sleeping in the room above him. All Newt knew was that he was happy...no, ecstatic, that Credence was alive and, as far as he knew, without the parasite leaching off his magic.

But this thought raised even more questions: if the obscurus was gone, did that mean Credence had learnt to let his natural magic out? Or had come to terms with the abuse he had dealt with for years and years? Newt thought this unlikely. Without an outlet of magic for Credence, the obscurus would undoubtedly come back. That meant Credence needed a wand -and Newt's was the only one available- in order to learn to at least siphon off his magic.

Newt had to come up with a plan of attack. He had to find a suitable wand for Credence, but he didn't know if a trip to Olivanders was worth the risk. If anyone who knew Credence by appearance saw him in public...Newt didn't need an imagination to picture what would happen. Any distress on Credence's part at this point was endangering both Credence and everyone else.

There were still so many questions Newt had to ask. But it was 2am, and a day of paramount importance was ahead. So Newt turned in his bed, whacked his pillow into shape, and decided to put Credence on the list to worry about in five hours. Finally, with the blissful absence of guilt gone, sleep crept up on Newt quickly.

*

Morning dawned in the most serene fashion. The sun tinged the bedroom orange, and the pleasant warmth of early spring seeped into Newt's numb skin. He had woken early in excitement, and decided to rise earlier than planned to head straight to his suitcase to tend to his creatures. As Newt wondered through the enclosures, he smiled a little at the thought of showing Credence his suitcase. He had probably never seen something annoying as a niffler, amazing erumpet or majestic as a thunderbird...or even a room inside a suitcase, for that matter. Apart from the stray cats, dogs and birds of New York, Credence had probably only seen all things drab in his lifetime. Newt decided that teaching Credence a bit of magic and showing him the wizarding world would be the best possible cure to healing his physical and mental health.

Feeling positive about the day, Newt exited his suitcase, locked it, shoved it under his bed and strode into the kitchen. His good mood lead him to the fridge, where he decided that something like poached eggs on toast would warm Credence up to the day. 

Newt found himself eager to please Credence. He wanted to help Credence see that life really was filled with wonderful things, and that magic was the most amazing thing in the world, even if you're as incompetent as Newt. Newt flickered around the kitchen, excited about the aspect and humming a song, when he heard footsteps behind him. Newt whirled around to see Credence making his way into the kitchen, wearing Newt's old flannels. Newt struggled not to laugh at Credence's somber face when he said, "A jolly good morning Credence," at which Credence looked slightly surprised to hear Newt's very uncharacteristic chirp. "Did you sleep ok?" /Woah, calm down Newt/, he told himself. Since when did he use the word jolly?

Credence stepped into the sunlight and closed his eyes to the dawning sun, which shone brightly into the cold kitchen. Eyes still closed, he spoke,

"Thank you, sleep was good." He grew silent, and took seat at the wooden table, basking in the sun. Just as quickly as he closed his eyes though, Credence jumped from the seat as though burned, exclaiming, "I'm sorry, would you like me to help make..." he saw the eggs on the bench, "Eggs?" Newt waved his hand nonchalantly, picked out his wand, and held a piece of bread at arms length, muttering a word and moving his wand up and down the piece evenly, toasting it quickly. He turned to see Credence staring wide-eyed. But for once, Newt thought it wasn't in fear: it was more like awe. Newt tried not to smile as he pointed his wand at the eggs, saying "Wingardium Leviosa." The eggs went to the pan on the stove, cracked, and soon they were cooking away. The whole time, Newt could feel an intent stare on his back. Usually, Newt wouldn't have bothered with the spell, but he felt like showing off the simple magic. He turned around and leant against the bench while the eggs cooked, and said to Credence in a hope to alter his attitude toward Newt's wand,

"Magic serves unlimited uses. I know the people in New York used their magic for the most unforgivable purposes," Credence nodded in agreement, "But most people only use magic for the best of purposes. And Credence, it's obvious you have more power than most; you suppressed your magic for so long, and no one has -ever - lasted as long as you as an obscurial." Credence said nothing, but he leaned forward across the table, the picture of attentiveness. Newt continued, "I'm thinking I should teach you some simple spells Credence. Unless you channel your magic, pressure builds inside until it finds a way out...or you can hold it in, and we know what happens when you do that."Credence now stared at the table. He seemed ashamed at those words. Sad. Newt didn't like that look. It was so out of place in the warmth of the kitchen.

"Credence?" He didn't look up. Newt walked over and pulled a chair out from the table. Even the loud scrape against the floor didn't jerk Credence from staring, pitifully, at the table. "Credence, look at me." He did. "You know what you did wasn't your fault right? Most magical people let their magic out without meaning to. It was just a matter of circumstances for you...your mother, she..." Newt was at loss of words. He stopped and thought a bit, then said cautiously, "Your mother hurt you, didn't she?" Credence's gaze dropped back to the table, but he said quietly,

"Yes." Newt nodded. It dawned on Newt that all of this... the reason for Credence's few words and submissive nature was because of her. Suddenly, anger surged through Newt. The only thing that made him this angry was the magical community mistreating the fantastic beasts of their world. Newt hated to even picture Credence being hurt. How could a mother do that?

Newt struggled to keep emotion out of his voice, but what he said held more weight than he would have liked, and he spoke quickly,

"I really don't want to sound disrespectful Credence, but she was the one to have done this to you. This is her fault." Credence looked up in alarm at the dark tone of Newt's usually soft voice, but Newt continued, trying to make a point, "It didn't help that she was the head of the goddamn anti-witchcraft society, right? Of course you wouldn't let your magic out with her around. If you hadn't been physically abused, for crying out loud..." Newt's anger subsided at the look on Credence's face. "I just want to tell you, Credence, that no harm will ever come across you again. I won't let it, not after all you've been through." With that said, Newt closed his overflowing mouth and evacuated the chair, grabbing plates for the eggs and toast and looking busy. He'd never in his life spoken his mind so clearly to a stranger. But a stranger had never needed the reassurance more than Credence.

Newt laid the steaming plates down, and went straight to eating. The birds chirped soothingly. But Newt heard no cutlery on Credence's plate. And when he looked up, he saw that Credence was staring at his egg, and his eyes were glistening. /Oh crap./

Credence's POV

He'd been given a bed. Clothes. Breakfast. And, despite the clear insults to his mother, Credence did not miss the resounding note of concern in Newt's speech. Concern for Credence. Passion, firmly withheld, but there. Credence didn't know how to respond. And suddenly, he was overwhelmed again. Emotional, again! /What a chump./

He picked up his knife and fork, stabbed the yolk and watched the stream of orange. He tried to focus on the colour. He went through the motions of spreading it, cutting the toast, and placing it in his mouth. Chewing, appreciating all the colours and sounds of the British countryside. Credence prayed Newt hadn't noticed he was crying. When he thought he had gotten control of himself, Credence decided he needed to say something. 

"Mr Scamander?"

"Newt, please."

"Newt." Credence didn't know why he had adopted the formal tone.

"Hmm?" Newt looked up, eyebrows raised. He seemed to have so many delicate freckles under the morning sunlight. Credence opened his mouth to say something about his mother. But he couldn't. What was there to say? She was gone. Credence got through things by not dwelling on them. If he thought of the past, the future would be dulled. /The past starts right now./ So he simply said,

"Thank you for breakfast. And...well, everything." Newt smiled a little in response, and said softly,

"It's ok." Credence shook his head,

"What you're doing for me is amazing, really. And I feel I owe you an answer to how I got through last night. Why I'm here." Newt raised his eyebrows again, but nodded. So Credence took a deep breath, and began to retell his story of the last few months.

He began with how he had followed Newt onto the boat as a black wisp of existence. How, through a daze, he trailed Newt to his house. How his lucidity had waxed and waned, until Credence found his body in the darkness, and reached reality again. He left out the part about following and drawing strength from Newt's light and warmth, and continued eating his egg throughout the whole story. But he could tell Newt wasn't falling for the casual talk.

Finally Credence finished the story of him coming back to life. By then the sun had lifted high enough to leave the room. The plates were empty. The silence was heavy.

"Well then," Newt broke the silence, "That explains a lot." He fell quiet again, looking slightly overwhelmed. Credence waited for any questions. But they didn't come. 

Newt abruptly stood up, chair scraping the floor startlingly, and clapped his hands together. "I think that was a long enough breakfast. That story you just told me Credence..." he went somber, "Thanks for...saying all that. And may I say I am amazed at your strength." Credence smiled in thanks, but he felt a heat on his cheeks. It looked like Newt's face was turning red too. Newt clapped his hands together again, bouncing on his heel as he said, "Alright, let's get dressed, and then we'll head out the back and you can borrow my wand. It's time for you to show you're a wizard, Credence."

And at that, Newt left the room with a flair in his step, like all Credence had just said was no big deal. Credence was happy to leave it at that. So he bounced out of his chair, and only then Newt's words registered: /You can borrow my wand./ Credence was suddenly feeling something he hadn't felt for too long: exhilaration. Real, god-blessed excitement...tinged with a little uncertainty, but there.


	6. A Tool, Not A Weapon

Newt's POV

Newt strode into his bedroom and while he was rifling through draws for daywear for Credence, he called out to let Credence know, "I'll get you something better to wear in the meantime." Before we take you back to New York, somehow. He heard Credence walk up and stop outside the bedroom door. "Later, we're going to have to think about what we're going to do from here, but for now, letting you channel your magic is the best option before we start worrying about legalities." Newt sighed in annoyance, still searching for something for Credence to wear. He didn't have much of a catalogue. "The only thing I have is pinstripes and a white long sleeve. You can borrow a pair of my boots and hopefully they'll fit. Is that ok?" Newt turned to see Credence nodding vigorously, then saying,

"I really don't have an opinion."

Newt snorted softly. He was a teenage boy: people his age were supposed to care a lot.

"Alright, here you go," Newt dumped the clothes in Credence's arms, then added in a pair of socks, which were an alarming pattern of green and orange. Totally un-Credence, but suitable wizard-wear. "It's pretty warm today, so you won't be needing a coat I don't think. Meet you in the kitchen in 5."

Four minutes later, Credence, looking more excited that Newt had ever seen, arrived at the kitchen, and together, they walked out the back door into the open garden.

Credence's POV

The clothes which were...well, way too Newt, fit Credence quite well. In retrospect, he supposed he and Newt were the same height...Credence just felt he was looking up at Newt all the time; he had adopted a tired slouch of late.

But as he ran down the stairs, the shoes clacking on the wood, Credence stood straighter. He was a wizard! His unexplained abilities were finally receiving some answers. The thought had seemed simply terrifying to Credence earlier, but when he saw Newt make those eggs float in mid air and toast the bread...Credence was suddenly very eager to learn. He wondered just how many things magic would let him do that only the imagination, so far, had permitted. It was surreal.

Credence breezed into the kitchen to join Newt, and they made their way through a creaky wooden door and into the garden.

Credence couldn't help but utter an exclamation. The garden, which was more like a small field or clearing, was fairly unkempt, but was absolutely brimming with energy and beauty. Long, luscious grasses, some with massive seed heads rising above Credence's head, swayed in the pleasant breeze. Like motes of dust, flying insects hovered around lit by the sunlight. Not far away, a stand of deep green rainforest trees emitted a spray of startled parrots. Credence looked down at his feet, and, seeing a pretty yellow flower, bent down and picked it, holding it to his face and feeling it's delicate petals, trying to breath in a scent. It didn't have one though. It came to Credence's attention that an alarming buzzing was nearby, and he turned to see a bush pressed against the white walls of the house, covered with large-petaled pink flowers and swarmed by bees. He's never seen bees before.

Credence whirled around to face Newt, a smile playing on his lips. Newt gestured to the bush, "I don't even know what kind of plant that is. Can't find it in a single botany book. The bees love it. But that," Newt pointed at the flower in Credence's fingers, "Is a dandelion. It's just a weed."

Credence nodded, and said, "I like it though." He lifted his head to the skies, which looked bluer than ever. "Your garden is really nice."

Newt shrugged. "Yeah, it's pretty good I suppose. I feels kind of apart from the world, sometimes." He turned back to Credence, and beckoned him to follow along a trail worn through the wall of grass, away from the house.

Credence followed, gazing around in wonder. The trail was speckled with more little wonders, including a cluster of white mushrooms (Are those edible?), a blanket of tiny blue flowers and, intermittently, tiny swallows flashing by the strip of blue sky overhead. Once again Credence thought of New York and wished his sisters could see what he saw.

Credence's eyes landed on Newt, walking ahead of him. Newt had a kind of ambling gaint. Distinct, like there was no rush. He gazed around too, as if he had no destination in mind. Like everything was new to him.

Credence followed Newt's eyes to the forest trees, where he could hear parrots squawking loudly, like an argument was going on.

Focused on the birds and not on what was in front of him, Credence was suddenly slamming into something. He yelled out, and realized it was Newt. He grabbed Newt's shoulder, accidentally wrenching him on the way down, and just as Credence was sure this was the most embarrassing thing ever, Newt caught his elbow, steadying him, and Credence stammered out a stream of sorries, "I'm so sorry! I'm sorry. I didn't mean to grab you..."

For a second, Credence forgot that this was Newt and not his mother and raised his hands to cover his head. All sounds were silent to Credence's ears. He bowed there for what felt like a long time, waiting for something bad to happen. It didn't.

Credence felt fingers prying his hands away, and then he was flooding back from memories and into reality.

"Credence..." Credence looked up to Newt. He looked appalled. Credence mumbled again,

"Sorry." Newt's eyebrows, which were knitted together, rose in exasperation.

"You say sorry one more time, you'll have something to really be sorry about. I was actually about to laugh when you ran into me until...well. You didn't do any harm Credence. It's ok." He huffed. He didn't look annoyed. Just a bit...sad? Credence couldn't tell, as Newt was already turning away, walking down down the path and into another clearing. Credence ran to catch up, his previous excitement starting to dwindle.

Credence ran to catch up, his previous excitement starting to dwindle

Newt's POV

Credence had withdrew again, and Newt had received a heart-wrenching reminder of Credence's abuse. Credence had to heal. And using magic would be the best way to do it. Magic, Newt knew, would change Credence for the better.

The grass was a different variety in the meadow; short. No other houses were around for a couple of kilometers. It was the best possible place to learn, away from prying eyes.

Newt whipped out his wand and beckoned to Credence , who was still at the edge of the clearing. Newt held out his wand on his palm, and Credence took it. While Credence's eyes were on the wand, for a split second, Newt really took in his face, which was lit by the sunlight, and thought briefly, He's got a straight nose. What? Newt shook his head clear of that weird, stray thought.

Credence held Newt's wand in a way you would something fragile, and he seemed to wait for something. The birds chirped merrily. Then he spoke,

"What do I say?"

"Oh!" Newt exclaimed, "You don't need to word anything yet, just wave it around a bit."

Still uncertain, Credence moved his arm as if he were under-arming a ball...very slowly and stiffly. Newt cringed and bounced on his heel, saying, "Try it with a bit more confidence. Just let the tension loose. It won't bite."

Credence glanced at Newt, bit his lip, and then whirled his arm airily, and then something happened: Orange sparks flew from Newt's wand, splaying like a firework. They both jumped, and a grin lit up Credence's features. He did it again, with more grace, and the fireworks flew up into the air, making a loud bang. Credence stared wide-eyed at the sky, and mumbled, "That's maniac."

"That was good Credence."

"Thanks." Credence said, face a light blush at the praise.

"All magical peoples buy their own wand at a wand maker's. Here in Britain, we have Olivander. Only a minority of trees produce quality wood, just like a minority of humans can use magic. Most wands are meant for just one owner, but some, including mine, are more willing to perform for others. Mine is Chestnut, twelve and a half inches, it's core is a dragon heartstring and it's fairly flexible."

Credence's eyes lit up in interest, and he said hesitantly,

"Dragon heartstring? Really?" Credence looked as though he thought Newt was lying. Newt chuckled, remembering Credence's lack of knowledge on the wizarding world,

"Yes, dragons are real, you can trust me on that." Newt's eyes drifted to his inner forearm, where a white, ragged scar reminded him blatantly of that fact. "There are many creatures muggles -which are non-magical people, by the way- think are mythical. Things like unicorns and mermaids are real. Did you see those posters in the attic?" Credence nodded. "All real. All those books I have up there are studies of all the fantastic beasts which live in the magical world....I'm a magizoologist. So I'm pretty dedicated to the creatures of our world, myself." Credence stared in unashamed wonder at Newt. So Newt tacked onto the end, "I've actually worked with dragons in the past. But that's another story." He shrugged. Credence smiled and gave Newt a look that said You're gonna have to tell me that story later. The excitement Credence had possessed earlier had returned in full strength. In the serenity of the clearing, Newt spoke more confidently, eager to teach.

For the next few hours, conversation left the field, and it was instead filled with bangs and flashes of light, as Credence learnt to channel his power into a tool, and then into the world. As expected, at times it didn't work out well. At one point, a patch of grass caught on fire. But Newt could see that Credence's intent focus was going to lead him to great places soon. All he needed now was confidence and his own wand.


	7. Tether

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you've gotten this far into the story, thanks! Btw, Is there a way to make words bold/italic?

Credence's POV

Spring temperatures are unpredictable in Britain, Credence soon found. Until midday, it had been surprisingly warm, but the weather had taken a sudden turn; the breeze had picked up into a wind and a wall of dark clouds had gathered, moving with graceful but threatening speed as it spilled over a distant mountain range into the valley.

It wasn't until Credence got a chill from the wind and felt the spittle on his skin that he pointed out the sky to Newt and the two of them decided then was the time to get going.

As Credence handed Newt back his wand, his hand lingered for a second, and he said, "This has been really good." Newt took the wand and looked at Credence in the slightly embarrassed way he always did as he said,

"You did amazingly well, for someone who didn't even know dragons existed until today." They both laughed softly, Credence marveling in the sound.

Together, they turned and began a brisk walk back to the house. The stand of trees waved them away, some showing the silvery undersides of their leaves in the wind. The smell of rain -petrichor- wafted up to Credence, and the deep, rumbling sound of thunder began close by. The wall of cloud, a gradient of slate grey and charcoal, lit up intermittently with lightning, like flashes from a camera, and little white scuds in the foreground moved hurriedly out of the cell's way.

The wind had picked up into a gale, and the grass' whispered and swung down in the gale, flicking at Credence and Newt's faces in an intimate way. They started to jog as the storm reached overhead and the lightning sliced the sky. The rain picked up with alarming speed, and soon, it was absolutely pouring. Newt turned, yelling over the thundering storm, "Let's run!"   
They did, Credence springing over puddles, watching Newt's back through the thick sheets of rain. They reached the garden and Newt wrenched open the door, both of them shoving inside. Credence slammed the door shut behind him, breathing heavily from the sprint. He turned to Newt, taking in his very wet appearance, and struggled to not let out a burst of laughter. It felt good. Newt brushed his hair out of his eyes and placed his hands on his hips in mock annoyance, but he let out a laugh, gesturing at Credence, who was dripping all over the floor,

"That storm came up so fast, hey?"

"Yeah. But it's pretty cool." Credence turned to look out the window. Or tried to, because the rain was so heavy the window looked frosted, the shapes outside like silhouettes.

"You know," Newt began, "We probably would have been out there longer if that storm didn't come, you were that focused. Not many can just learn to cast the spells you did so quickly, let alone use a stranger's wand. I guess we were just lucky my wand seems to be well matched for you." Credence nodded. The happiness and exhilaration he had felt - two feelings almost unfamiliar to him- made him feel like another person. He felt the need to let the flood gates loose. Get to know Newt, so he wasn't just an additional, two-dimensional cast member in the movie called life.

Newt disappeared to open a wardrobe, pulling out two towels as Credence spoke, "Did someone you know teach you? Did you have to be good with defensive spells to get to work with dragons?" Newt handed Credence a towel.  
"Well..." Newt considered, "You do need to know your defensive shields well, but I was never all that good with other, more complex things like transfiguration or complicated hexes. Dragon work is more about grit and common sense. I learnt it all at Hogwarts, by the way."

"Hogwarts?" Credence thought the name sounded weird.

"Ah. Yes. It's a boarding school for witches and wizards. You get a letter..." Newt paused and seemed to think for a second.

"Say, did you not get a letter, by the way? Inviting you so go to some American wizarding school when you were younger?"

"No," Credence said in a confused tone.

"Well, they really should have sent you something. Here, when you're about thirteen, you receive a letter from a wizarding school, depending on where you're from. A couple of the most famed ones are Beuxbatons and Durmstrang, but I personally think Hogwarts is the best." Credence wondered if he would ever get the chance to attend a real, magical school. It sounded amazing.

"I've always gone to a normal school," Credence said, wilted. "Did you get to chose your subjects?"

"Later on, yes. We all began with transfiguration, herbology, potions, defense of the dark arts...stuff like that. I was always good at Quidditch...which is a game, by the way," Newt said in response to Credence's questioning look, "And Care of Magical Creatures. But I only did the first year of that..." Newt drifted off, a small frown on his face. Credence decided not to push for an answer as to why Newt didn't finish his studies with Magical Creatures at Hogwarts.

All the information inspired more and more questions in Credence. Everything about Hogwarts sounded simply fantastic. Wondrous. It sounded like a place out of a fairy tale. He wanted to ask more, but just as he opened his mouth, Credence's stomach rumbled loudly. Newt nodded as if agreeing,

"Yep, I think it's time for luncheon."

Newt's POV

Newt was very impressed at Credence's ability, but he was also a tiny bit jealous. He had never been so quick to learn anything..but then, Newt didn't think anyone he'd ever seen had done /wingardium leviosa/ in an instant.

Newt had been so intent on watching Credence that the storm, which he usually expected and saw coming miles away, had actually managed creep up on him. But running though the rain with Credence had proven an almost fun experience.

Experience alright. When they had reached the house, Newt had turned to see Credence and his dripping white shirt, which was looking a little too transparent for comfort. Newt knew from then on that he wouldn't ever think of Credence as young again; he had the breadth of shoulders and muscle tone of a young man, by the looks of things. Oh, Merlin's beard, what am I thinking? Newt had evacuated the room quickly after that, pretending to be very focused on getting towels and trying desperately to get that very out-of-place realization out of his head.

After Newt had talked to Credence of Hogwarts (steering clear of personal details), they sat down to have a chicken, cheese and lettuce sandwich, with which Credence had gotten overly worked up about, explaining that at home meats were a luxury. At home. They would need to talk about that; New York.

"You've got two sisters, right Credence?" Newt asked cautiously. Credence grimaced a little.

"Yes. Modesty and Chastity. My mother was a bit of a 'virtue' person with names."

"Well..." Newt began, "I'm wondering what we're going to do about...you. And them."

He fell silent, thinking. Credence put his sandwich down, and said with matched uncertainty,

"I miss them. But...I don't want to go back to New York. I was hoping...I could...learn some more magic. Or find a way to bring them here. Or find a permanent home or...I don't know. Mostly I'm wondering who...well..." Credence rubbed the back of his neck, "Do you think Hogwarts accepts students from overseas?"

Newt considered; it sounded like a good option. Hogwarts would be a great home for Credence, and his sisters. But a part of Newt knew that he was overlooking the realist part of himself...because, deep down, all Newt really wanted was for Credence to stay in Britain. And...maybe be his company. Permanently. At this, Newt feared he was already getting attached to Credence just because of his companionship, and he had been under his roof for less than a day. /Credence is an orphan/, who, legally, needs a parent, and not a friend. If Newt even was that. Newt didn't think he was really suitable friend material for Credence, or anyone. Was he wrong in assuming Credence needed him? Perhaps so. But Newt realized he needed Credence.

Newt's eyes flickered to Credence's hand, resting on the table. He forced himself to reach out and grab it. Credence's eyes widened, but his gaze settled heavily on Newt, meeting his eyes. Newt layed all his emotions out with his gaze; the loneliness. His willingness to help Credence.

"Credence?" His voice was soft. Credence matched it,

"Yes?"

"You are welcome to stay here for as long as you like," Newt said with the utmost certainty.

All sounds seemed to cease. Credence held Newt's hand tighter...and a smile lit up his face. He seemed to struggle to say something, so Newt just said, "It's okay. I'm sure we'll figure out something for you in the meantime. But for now..." Newt took in Credence's gratitude. His emotion. He was the purest person Newt had ever met, and considering everything he had been through...Newt decided right there he would breach any stupid law for the things he thought deserved it, even if a case of magical creatures went loose in the process. Credence's happiness had been forfeited for so long, and pay was well over due. So he told Credence,

"I think we should get you a wand. Tomorrow."  
He heard a chair scrape the floor, and before he knew it, Newt was being embraced again. Twice in less than 24 hours. But despite the damp, uncomfortable clothes, he smiled.


	8. Olivander's

Credence's POV

That night, Credence laid on his stomach and gazed through his window at the stars. The black silhouettes of trees swept the sky, and wisps of departing storm clouds where brushed away. There were so many stars, like pinpricks in a black fabric, and easily seen in the clear atmosphere. Credence didn't want to sleep; he just wanted to think. Process. Appreciate.

This whole new magical world Credence had just been introduced to was already overwhelming, and he hadn't even seen it yet. Life had become one big pinch-me moment. All Credence could do was pray he was buried down too deep in the dream to ever wake up. He never wanted to return to reality, because if he did, Newt Scamander and his warm home would become a memory.

But Credence thought of earlier, when Newt, who was one to shy away from contact, had actually initiated it for once. Credence knew he was apart of something very intimate earlier when Newt had placed his hand on Credence's and said it all with his eyes; _I need you._

The intense feeling -that Newt wanted Credence around - was incarnate in a point Credence could feel in his chest. He turned over onto his back, and placed his hands over his chest; he could feel it, like something corrosive. Right down to the bottom of his lungs. Like arthritis in his fingers. It was the very best of pain. Credence closed his eyes, picturing Newt's face when they had sat at the table and held hands -held hands!- and the feeling in his chest made him want to run for years, sustained on that emotion alone. It made him want to be the one to initiate a standing ovation. It made him want to climb cliffs and swim seas. It stole Credence's breath away, the point in his chest. He wanted to relieve it. But how? Picturing Newt and feeling the safety of the bed he was in soothed it, strangely enough. So, thinking of the time he would see Newt again in the morning, Credence let himself drift into sleep, willing time to part underneath him and speed away to the morning.

It did.

Dawn broke as beautifully as it had the day before, and the sky turned pink under the magnificent sun.

Upon waking, Credence retrieved the clothes he had hung out to dry, dressed, and jumped down the stairs, excitement intense. Today he was going to get a wand! He was going to a place where there would be other wizards, and witches, and all manner of wonderful things.

Newt was already in the kitchen, dressed in his blue coat with a bowl of porridge and a cup of tea. He smiled in greeting as Credence skidded into the kitchen, saying,

"Excited?"

"Oh yes," Credence said, his jovial tone surprising even himself. Newt, his mouth full, pointed to a pot on the stove, and Credence bounced on his heels, humming an old church song as he spooned the steaming porridge into a bowl already set on the table. "Thanks for breakfast, again. You'll have to start giving me some jobs so I can start earning my keep around here."

"It's no problem." Newt said. Then, "The place we're going to is called Diagon Alley, and we can get you a new set of clothes while we are there..." he began, as Credence sat down opposite. Newt pushed a pot of honey at Credence, who helped himself, "And unfortunately, this is the busiest time of year, since students are getting ready to head back to Hogwarts." Credence couldn't help feel a thrill at the thought of bustling streets full of magical peoples; the more people the better. But Newt's next words sobered him, "We'll just have to hope nobody recognizes you from New York."

Credence felt a little guilty then; Newt was usually happy enough, but now Credence could hear a stressed-out undertone in his voice and see a stiffness in his posture which probably owed to the fact that today Newt would be risking a lot to help Credence. Credence couldn't guess what would happen if he was found by someone who knew him as an obscurial, alive and well and with Newt.

Credence nodded slowly, trying to communicate his appreciation with a soft smile for Newt. Newt saw and allowed an upturn of the lips. Then Credence had a thought,

"But...how to we get to Diagon Alley?" Credence asked. Newt replied matter-of-factly,

"Floo Powder."

"Flu powder?"

"Yep. You hop into the fireplace, throw some Floo Powder around, say where you want to go and you go there, along the network."

Credence couldn't believe this new information. Transportation...how zany.

"How long does it take to get there?" Credence asked excitedly.

"Couple of seconds." Credence uttered a soft wow. Magic must save people a lot of money and time.

 

Newt's POV

Newt could see that Credence using his magic had had positive effects on him both physically and emotionally. His skin already looked healthier, he stood straighter -almost matching Newt now - and his almost perpetual excitement was having an effect on Newt now too. _I hope I don't get too reckless with him around,_ Newt thought.

Around 8:30am, Newt retrieved the pot of green powder from the mantelpiece, beckoning Credence over. He had let Credence rummage in his wardrobe for a robe so he would blend in with the magical crowd, and Credence had chosen the black one. Newt guessed Credence hadn't changed so much as to prefer anything other than black, but it suited him well. The robe flowed as Credence walked over, taking a pinch of the powder from the pot and inspecting it.

"Now Credence," Credence turned to Newt, the picture of attentiveness, "All you do is step inside the fireplace, drop the powder and say, 'Diagon Alley' nice and clear."

"Diagon Alley. That's it?"

"Yep. Just close your eyes as you do it, or the soot will get in them. And keep your hands by your sides. I'll be right behind you when you come out of the fireplace on the other side." Credence nodded, but his eyes were wide as he stepped into the fireplace, and turned to face Newt.

"Now?" His voice was unsteady. Newt smiled in a reassuring way, and said,

"Don't forget to say it clearly. See you soon."

Credence closed his eyes tightly. Held out his hand, and dropped the powder. Green flames engulfed him, and he shouted, "Diagon Alley!" And disappeared. Newt grabbed a pinch of Floo, and, following Credence swiftly, stepped into the fireplace and commanded, "Diagon Alley!"

Newt tucked in his elbows and closed his eyes as he went down the shoot with the warm flames, and in a couple of seconds, he was in the familiar, cobblestoned Diagon Alley. Newt turned to see Credence standing right next to the public fireplace, open-mouthed. A multitude of witches and wizards, young and old and dressed in their colourful robes, bustled to and fro between stores in the street like a swirl of rainbow. Owls squawked. Salespeople waved. Children shouted and adults conversed. The street was as full of infectious energy as Newt remembered. And it appeared Credence was as ecstatic as him to be there.

Newt tapped Credence out of his trance, and they began winding their way down the street, Credence bumping into people as he gawked at a stand of knuckle bones in a jar. Many school-aged kids went by, and Newt thought he even recognized a few teens who may have been in first grade when Newt left the school. He felt a surge of nostalgia as he saw the wand shop up ahead, the pet store across the street, and almost groaned at the sight of the broom store. Newt wanted desperately to join the students at the glass to admire whatever new model was on display.

As Credence and Newt reached the doorway to the wand store, Newt saw something at the edge of his vision, and spied a massive figure making his way up the street. Hagrid. Newt had known him briefly; the two shared commonalities in their interest of magical creatures...and their tendency to get expelled. Newt promised himself he would go see Hagrid later and ask about things at Hogwarts.

Newt followed Credence inside the store, and a smile split his face at the sight of the corridors of boxes. A few groups of parents and children were scattered up and down the corridors, and more were waiting at the front of the store, where Olivander stood, instructing an assistant whilst simultaneously reassuring a concerned mother the wand he'd chosen was perfect.

Credence had bent his head back to gape at the ceiling, and Newt joined him, marveling at the number of boxes, stacked right to the top and covering every inch of the place. Credence turned to him, his eyes bright, and Newt breathed in the musty smell of the store, mingled with the woods of wands.

It was then that Olivander strolled over, the gaggle of customers gone, the store now silent save for a few people down at the far end of the store.

Olivander -who's hair had began to grey, Newt noticed -raised his eyebrows as he saw Credence. He cleared his throat, but Credence was distracted, apparently enthralled in reading the writing on the side of a wand box.

"Credence." Newt said, to get his attention. Credence whipped around, saw Olivander there, and mumbled an apology, placing the box back on a pile.

"You're a knew one. I know you, Mr Scamander," Olivander said, glanced at Newt, "But you haven't been to my store as of yet, Mr..?"

"Barebone. And..." Credence floundered.

Newt spoke up, "He hasn't been to a wand store before, Mr Olivander."

"What was that?" Olivander turned, sounding shocked.

"I said-"

"Yes, I heard you Mr Scamander. My goodness, has this boy never had a wand before now?" Now it was Newt's turn to flounder under Olivander's sharp look. A group of customers walked into the store, and Newt prayed Olivander would turn to serve the growing amount of people, but he continued to stare Newt down. To his surprise, Credence then spoke for him,

"I haven't had the opportunity to buy a wand before now, sir." Olivander whipped around, seeming to finally notice Credence's accent.

"Are you from America, boy?"

"New York." Olivander nodded knowingly. He turned to Newt, whispering loudly,

"They're awfully relaxed about their education over there." Newt said nothing, though he silently agreed that the American system was vastly different to what happened in Britain.

Olivander turned to Credence again, adopting an interrogative voice, "Have you not been to school, Mr Barebone?" Credence shook his head, but offered no more. Newt thought he was doing rather well under the pressure as Olivander's voice rose, "And, just out of interest, Mr Barebone, have you or have you not any experience with a wand?" Credence spoke,

"I used Newt's wand yesterday." Newt winced at his blatant truthfulness, and Olivander looked like he was ready to yell something at this outrageous information, before the bell tinkled and a stream of students and parents came in, joining a growing horde. Olivander sighed irritantly, and waved to his assistant for help before speaking to Newt directly,

"I do not have time to ask any more questions now, but for Ravenclaw's sake, Mr Scamander, please help this boy learn something...it's ridiculous! However, people of all ages come in with broken wands all year round in need of a new one, so I shall have no problem assisting you." And he set off down a corridor, picking out a number of boxes as he went, mumbling about wood types and stress.

" And he set off down a corridor, picking out a number of boxes as he went, mumbling about wood types and stress  
Credence's POV

Despite Olivander's demanding questions, Credence found it easy to answer; he had had much practice with answering questions under pressure, thanks to his mother, and knew telling the truth was better in the long run.

As Olivander placed a wand in Credence's hands, the excitement came back.

"Cherry wood, twelve inches, unicorn hair and springy. Give it a whirl, Mr Barebone."

It all happened in slow motion then. Credence moved his arm the way he had with Newt's the first time, and then the wand jerked his arm, and a massive explosion went off. The power waves alone sent boxes to the floor and papers flying, provoking a collective yell from the front of the store. Soon many heads were poking around the corridor. Credence held the wand up to see the end of it smoking, and then the wand was being plucked out of his hands by Olivander.

"Well that was one of the biggest reactions we've ever had!" Olivander exclaimed. He placed the wand back in the box, then ran his eyes over the rest of the boxes he had collected and shoved most of them aside, keeping only a couple. He chose another box, opened it, and placed the wand in Credence's now shaking hands.

"Spruce. Ten and a half inches. Dragon heart string. Unyielding. Give this one lots of confidence, or it won't perform so well."

Credence mustered all the courage he had. This time, the explosion wasn't as bad, but the wand spurted violent red sparks, and Olivander took it from Credence's hands after that very quickly.

Credence tried again. And again. And again. A number of customers who were waiting for Olivander gathered off to the side of the firing line and were watching with great interest as Credence failed and destroyed and failed again. Credence wondered if what was happening was normal, but by the concerned look on Newt's face and the watching crowd, it wasn't. By now, Olivander was practically growling with frustration and the store assistant was trying to clear a way through the mountain of boxes thrown to the floor by Credence's wands. Olivander had starting fetching out some of the rarer wands he hadn't sold since the store was founded. The embarrassment of having a crowd watching him made Credence's face turn red. He felt like he was performing in a spectator's sport.

Olivander placed another wand in Credence's hands, saying "This one is rare. But you're a bit of a rare case. In fact, I don't think I've ever had to spend this long on a single person." Credence sighed. He hated being different. "This one is Vine. Phoenix feather. Twelve and a half. Yielding."

Credence took the wand. And, before he had even moved his hand, it let out a burst of power, which sent another tower of boxes to the floor. Credence lifted the wand up to his eyes and saw the tip had splintered. _Oh no._

Credence was shattered. He thought the wand would be right. And Olivander had too, because he now had his hands in his hair at the sight of the wand. From a corner of the store, Credence heard a woman's whisper, "He must be quite powerful, to destroy it like that." He turned to see her eyeing him off, an odd look of admiration and possibly fear. Newt tugged the wand from Credence's grasp and handed it to a still seething Olivander, and shot the whispering woman a look that sent her scurrying away.

"Okay." Olivander sighed. His eyes grew dark. "I've got just one more in mind." He walked over the a ladder and moved it to a dusty corner of the shop, climbing to the very top of the wall and moving boxes aside to reach one hidden at the back. He came down and placed the box on the table before lifting out a very long, lightly colored wand, holding it reverently in his hands, and speaking in a hush, "This is the only one I have. It's yew." Credence saw Newt's eyebrows draw together, and Olivander exchanged a dark look with him. Credence spoke with a touch of defiance,

"What's wrong with it?" They both looked at him, saying at the same time,

"Nothing."

Olivander continued, his voice soft, "Yew. Fourteen inches. Rougarou hair. Yielding."

Olivander placed the wand carefully on Credence's open palm. For some reason, Olivander and Newt's discomfort with the yew wand irked Credence. He just wanted to make this apparently unusual wand work for him. So he gripped it in his hand and did his most elegant but confident twirl and this time, nothing exploded. There were no sparks. No sound. But where Credence moved the wand, it left behind a delicate, shimmering white sort of smoke that disappeared into the air, leaving behind a sparkling residue, before it, too, disappeared. Credence sighed at it's beauty.

He turned, searching for Newt's reaction. He smiled encouragement. Olivander nodded in satisfaction and said, "Well. I must be honest, I was not expecting that wand to ever choose anyone. But there you have it."

A snigger sounded from behind a corridor, jerking Credence out of the moment. He turned to see a boy about Credence's age with long, dark curly hair and mean-looking eyes, who disappeared when Olivander's eyes landed on him.

"That was one of the Lestrange family," Olivander sniped. Credence saw Newt from the corner of his eye stiffen at the name. "There's too many of those menaces around here." Credence turned to Newt with a questioning look, but Newt shook his head, not answering.

"So there is your wand Mr Barebone." Olivander said with a flourish. Credence, forgetting the rude boy, gazed at the long, pale wand in his hand and he smiled widely; He was a wizard. And here was his wand. Credence could almost see the world, opening before him, its possibilities never ending.


	9. Liberator

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello there. Thanks for making it this far. But I have a question: do you know how to bold writing? Thank you f you can tell me in the comments! xx

**Credence's POV**

As they exited Olivander's, Credence promised Newt he'd soon find a way to pay back the money for his wand. As expected, Newt had nodded dismissively. Credence said he'd pay for it anyway. Somehow.

Credence carried his wand proudly in it's shiny packaging down the street, his excitement oblivious to cloudy skies and rushing people. He couldn't wait to test it out, and start to learn more. But he had to ask Newt,

"Why did your wand work OK for me, but all those others didn't?" Newt frowned and shook his head,

"I honestly don't know Credence. Your power is quite immense, so I'm surprised it didn't snap my wand in half. I guess it was...I don't know. Tolerant. Or maybe it liked you. Newt shrugged. Credence looked down at his wand in it's package again. He had never felt so good...and it didn't escape his mind that this happiness was all due to Newt. His liberator.

Newt lead them down the street, talking to Credence as they walked, smiling at people he seemed to know along the way,

"We won't bother with robes...they're expensive, and you can keep that black one you've got now. We'll just buy some clothes for you down the street, and-" He stopped and turned, and Credence followed his gaze to land on the biggest man Credence had ever seen in his life. He towered above everyone, his rough appearance drawing eyes. He seemed oblivious to Credence's stare though, as the man had spotted Newt, and made his way through the crowd, a smile softening his features.

"Newton, how are ye?" He boomed. Newt grimaced at the name, and almost buckled as the man's massive hand landed on his shoulder.

"Good Hagrid, how are things?"

"Aw yeah, it's all well. Grounds keeping is turning out great. How are ye?"

"Living, you know."

"Who's this?" Hagrid asked, seeing Credence. Credence couldn't help but flinch as the man -Hagrid- swung his hand around to offer it. _Everything is ok. He's just a big man. You're safe._ Credence tried to keep his eyes on Hagrid's face as he forced doubt away and took his hand (where it disappeared) and they shook as Newt said,

"This is Credence Barebone. He's from New York." Hagrid leaned back, taking Credence in.

"New York, eh? What you doin' out here then?" He spotted Credence's wand box, held tightly in his hands and pointed, "See you've gotta new wand." Credence nodded. But before Newt could say anything, Credence decided didn't want to let Newt speak on his behalf any more; it was time he mustered some courage. He pushed himself to forget about Hagrid's daunting size and spoke,

"I'm hoping to learn about magic for the first time. And for a new beginning. Maybe find a school." Hagrid turned to Newt, features lit up in surprise. Newt shrugged, and Credence could tell he was trying to look relaxed as, yet again, Credence threw them into an interrogation.

"You haven't bin to school yet Credence?" Hagrid asked in disbelief.

"No. I never got a letter." Newt stepped into the conversation then, saying to Hagrid,

"He's never had a wand before today Hagrid, but we're hoping there's a way to get Credence into Hogwarts." _What?_ Credence raised his eyebrows and that corrosive point in his chest grew, but Newt held up a hand at Credence's open mouth, signalling him to let him do the talking. "Do you think, Hagrid, there's a way we could get into contact with the current headmaster?" Credence wondered how _Hagrid_ would be able to get him into the school, but he kept his mouth shut. Hagrid frowned and scratched his bushy head,

"Well...Newt, I don't know about going to the headmaster..." He trailed off, eyes on his feet. Newt pushed,

"What about Dumbledore? He's always had a soft spot for the...well, _disadvantaged kinds_ ," Newt said, shooting Credence an apologetic look, "Maybe there's a way we can get him to meet with Credence?" Hagrid huffed and shifted his weight, startling a few people walking by.

"Tha's all well and good Newt, but it's really the parents who are meant ta put their kid into Hogwarts." Credence's eyes fell to the ground, and a familiar emptiness sprung up inside. He shuffled his feet as Newt answered quietly,

"Credence is an orphan, Hagrid." Hagrid looked taken aback. He shoved his hands in his pockets as he mumbled an apology, and turned to Credence to say,

"I'm sorry ta hear that." They fell silent. The crowd rushed on by. Owls continued their hoots. Children's shoes hit the pavement. And then, Hagrid came to a decision,

"I guess I could get ye a meetin' with Dumbledore."

**Newt's POV**

Newt had made the decision to ask Hagrid in a second. At Hogwarts, Credence could fulfill his potential. Have a home. Maybe even make some friends. His old life would heal over.

When Newt saw Credence flinch at Hagrid's movement, he decided to act. He wouldn't see Credence fear another human being again. And now, Credence had a chance at a normal life in Hogwarts.

As they walk away from Hagrid, continuing to the clothes store, Newt turned to see Credence grinning at him, eyes bright. The look struck him deeply. He wanted to reach out and trace Credence's cheekbones, rest his fingers on his eyelids and touch his smile lines. But most of all, Newt wanted Credence to want the same. _But that is stupid,_ Newt reminded himself. Now Newt is angry at himself for seeing Credence this way. _He does not, and will never, think of me that way. To him, I am a teacher and a guardian. Not...that._ Nevertheless, Newt hung on every word Credence spoke, though he was still unsettled at his own almost salacious thoughts,

"Newt...I can't thank you enough. Ever. That I have a chance at going to Hogwarts..." Credence reached his hand out, and it hovered a moment, before he dropped it back to his side. Newt yearned to snatch up his long-fingered hand and hold it. He hated himself for wanting that. Newt's voice wavered as he spoke,

"I guess we're pretty lucky Hagrid is a good fellow. He's gone through a lot of the same things as me..." Newt shut his mouth. He'd said too much. Credence asked cautiously,

"What kind of things?" Newt sighed. He he wanted Credence to think he was learning off a good model, but at some point Newt would have to tell Credence:

"I was expelled from Hogwarts for 'endangering lives.'" He paused. "It seems my interest in magical animals has been endangering people for a long time. And I still haven't learnt to keep others out of harm's way." Newt let out a hollow laugh, thinking of his escaped animals and the obscurus. He glanced at Credence, searching for a reaction, but he remained silent, a slight frown on his face. Newt continued, "Hagrid got expelled for the same kind of thing as me. Dumbledore - who's one of the younger teachers at Hogwarts - argued against my expulsion, and Hagrid's. Didn't quite convince the headmaster though." Newt finished, keeping his eyes forward, unwilling to look at Credence. But Credence seemed to have something else in mind, because this time he didn't hesitate; he placed a hand on Newt's shoulder. Taken by surprise, Newt's head whipped around to see Credence -bless him - with a soft, reassuring smile on his face. Was he not appalled, that Newt had gotten himself expelled? Credence's expression said he wasn't. Newt felt his shoulders relax.

"Newt?"

"Yeah?"

Credence seemed to struggle with the words as he spoke,

"I don't really care that you got expelled. Honestly, it wouldn't make a difference if you hadn't gone to school at all. What matters is that you have given me so much. More than anyone has ever given me." He opened his mouth to continue, but stopped. He'd said enough.

Before he knew what he was doing, Newt thought _to hell with it_ and placed his hand on top of Credence's. Voluntarily. But for once Newt didn't surprise himself; it just felt natural. And the two didn't let go until they walked into the clothes store at the bottom of the street.

**Credence's POV**

He loved the sunlight on Newt's face. But he hated that he could never say it.

So Credence just tried to use gestures, and placed a hand on Newt's shoulder. He couldn't believe it when Newt reciprocated. As always, it felt so good to have someone else's skin on his own. 

Credence was in a daze as they sorted through the clothes store. He couldn't stop the upturn of his lips. It felt so strange. Newt had disappeared to help Credence look for clothes in another part of the store, and now Credence searched through a rack of shoes, but his mind was elsewhere, marveling at the world he was in. For a while, he sat there, until a distant voice brought him back to earth.

It was a nasal voice. Harsh and low. So much like a bully's. Credence knows a bully's voice well; it's domineering. Commanding. But what he doesn't expect to see when he turns is the same boy from Olivander's: the Lestrange one. He lounged against the window, his face contorted in a smirk and hair in his face.

"Is that the new style or something?" The Lestrange said, gesturing to Credence's hair. Credence felt his face redden. It's difficult to choose fight over flight when you hear the bully's jeer. But Credence knows he looks what the bully lacks. _He_ learnt discipline at a young age. Credence also knows that having hair hanging in your face doesn't make you cool. So he tries to ignore the incentive as he stands and walks towards the other side of the store. But the bully calls again,

"Hey, creep, why don't you turn around and tell me? Where can I get a cut?" Credence thinks the bully could shave his head bald and leave tufts on the sides and he would look better. But he says nothing as strolls away, trying not to appear as he felt: humiliated.

Credence found Newt, but he said nothing as they turned and walked together to the desk, paid, and left. Credence didn't look at the window as they passed the store on the outside, but he knew the Lestrange was there, glaring through the window. He felt the foulness like it were physical.


	10. The Barrier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's all bold. Can't bothered/can't find a way to fix.

**Credence's POV**

**Credence couldn't understand why he had been targeted by the Lestrange boy. But he was plagued by his taunts, playing over in his head, for too long. What made Credence angry was that he couldn't get over it. The boy's words were ruining his experience in Diagon Alley! Even Newt's smile couldn't get Credence to put his head on straight. _They're just words. They're just words, you weakling. Words!_ Credence was pulled away from his mantra as Newt spoke, quiet and concerned,**

**"You alright Credence?"  
Credence chastised himself, and plastered on a smile.**

**"Excellent," he said falsely as Newt handed him an apple for a snack.**

**"Well, you should be, because the broom store is way more interesting than clothes."**

**Credence thought Newt was being sarcastic. He tried not to blatantly display his confusion when he said,**

**"Brooms? Right. Sweeping floors. Sounds great."**

**To Credence's surprise, Newt threw his head back and let out a long laugh. Nonplussed, Credence just stared. Newt turned and saw Credence's face, and his laughter deepened. A smile was building on Credence's own lips in reply to Newt's unprecedented laughter. The point in Credence's chest sent butterflies whirling when he took in Newt: all smile lines, messed russet hair and plush lips and emerald eyes and... _oh jeez._ Newt's laughter died away and he spoke, a little breathless but with a twinkle in his eye,**

**"No Creed, _flying_ brooms." Credence briefly wondered if he had heard wrong, or if anyone had ever given him a nickname, but was absorbed by Newt's chuckling as he tugged Credence toward the broomstore. And then Credence saw... _this can't be real_. He saw a shiny-handled broom on display, and it didn't look like it was made for sweeping. He followed a jaunty Newt into the store. It was brimming with enlivened people and happy noise. Credence was trying to get past a large man in a golden robe to follow Newt through the throng, when Newt shouted over the crowd, pointing up,**

**"Look Credence!" And then Credence's suspicions were confirmed.**

**A person was on a broom. Floating. Above the crowd.**

**"Nerts!" Credence whispered the exclamation. He couldn't stop the gape. Credence thought he must have looked like a fish out of water. But he could not believe it. It was at this moment Credence entered a different state. He stepped out of his shoes and looked down on himself metaphorically, and he almost cried at his life. Credence could not imagine that a few days ago he was a shapeless mass of obscurus. Next to dead. A month ago he was being abused by his mother. Without a person in the world. He was preaching prejudice to the people of New York about witches. He thought the world was void of magic. Of happiness.**

**And here was a symbol to contradict and destroy everything Credence had ever seen and believed. A wizard on a freaking broomstick. Credence felt a bubbling sensation in his chest. It built, like boiling water, and suddenly he was spilling over with laughter like a madman. It felt wondrous.**

****Newt's POV** **

****It was flagrantly obvious something was troubling Credence. Newt knew exactly how to stop that.** **

****The broom store was up ahead, and it was crammed. But by now, Newt doubted anyone from New York would ever see him and Credence, so he voted to take Credence to see the brooms. But he had completely forgotten that Credence had no idea what a broomstick was...and now he was laughing harder than he had in a long, long time. At times like this, Newt was so, so thankful that Credence had chosen to follow him onto that boat.** **

****Physical contact was becoming simple, and Newt didn't even notice himself as he plucked Credence's sleeve to follow him into the store. For some very strange reason, Newt's hand had almost moved to take Newt's, before he remembered Credence was Credence and not...something else.** **

****But nothing dulled Newt's exhilaration when his eyes landed on Credence's amazed face. Man, that face was so flawless when it looked happy. Newt allowed himself this thought.** **

****As all good things do, the time flew. The crowd thinned eventually, and finally Credence's eyes dropped from the broomstick, and found Newt in the crowd.** **

****"I can't believe this is real. How does this even work? All my life..." Credence's hands flailed, and Newt watched as he continued, "All my life I've dismissed magic. I've always thought it was just a a child's belief and there's no way I would ever consider it being real, especially with Mary Lou and fairytales being written by people...and even as I was handing out those fliers in New York to people, talking about evil witches, I didn't really believe in it. I just..." He kept blabbering. Newt enjoyed listening.** **

****He nodded in sympathy, and beckoned Credence to follow as they exited the store, Newt contributing bits to the conversation, but really just cherishing Credence talking so much. Credence didn't seem to realize how much he was revealing of himself as he spoke...little tidbits Newt hadn't heard before, like how Credence's sisters used to try to take the blame for him and how he'd been called a squib by Graves. _Sometimes, the best was to get answers is to just shut up and listen._ Newt mostly didn't like what he heard. But he could see Credence was getting some very important things off his chest.** **

****Finally, they reached the public fireplace, and Credence stopped. Newt turned to Credence, and realised just how close they stood, faces inches away. Newt didn't step back, as he usually would. Instead he took in Credence's eyes. They were glassy, filled with brimming emotion. Newt could see his vulnerability.** **

****The angle of the sun cast a rather deep shadow on where Newt and Credence stood. Nobody was around; many had gone home for lunch, or were sitting in restaurants currently. Sounds were dulled in the alley, and echoed only from far way.** **

****Credence spoke, slow, wavering and quiet; "You know, I've never told all that stuff to anyone. Ever."** **

****Newt closed his eyes and listened to the slightest gravel in Credence's voice. But what could he say? Not many people revealed that much of themselves to Newt. Of course he had had friends at school who he could talk with for ages...but there were limits, even to that. Newt had always been closed off. He had always been protected, because there had always been an unbreachable barrier. He ached to tell someone about his fears and loves, to tell someone who he really was. Newt had long ago given up trying to connect. But now, he saw what he thought had been impossible: a tool to destroy the barrier had appeared in the form of Credence Barebone. Credence had given so much of himself for Newt.** **

****But Newt was afraid to give. The barrier was an integral part of his life. Newt wasn't sure what would happen if he breached it. He wanted so much to do what he wanted with Credence. _But what if he thinks I'm weider than he thought?_ Newt didn't want Credence to see all of him. It would be safer to stay at a distance.** **

****So he stared at his shoes on Credence's feet and said to the hush, "I don't know what to say." Newt couldn't look at Credence. He just couldn't.** **

****He placed a coin in the slot, received the amount of floo powder they needed to get home, stepped into the fireplace, and turned and said,** **

****"I am sorry." He finally looked up. The look on Credence's face, and the fact that he tried to hide it, made Newt sick to the stomach. He had promised to never hurt Credence again. And now...Credence had told Newt all the nitty gritty, and Newt was too afraid to share himself.** **

****_I have to fix this._ ** **


	11. Skin on Skin

Credence's POV

That night, Credence dreamt of motor cars and flapper girls frolicking in the deep snow of New York. It was just a normal dream, until one of the girls morphed into Percival Graves, who shoved his face, grotesque and changing, in front of Credence's. He said poisonously, "You can control it Credence," and then Credence was whisked away from the scene and became a black form; the obscurus. With his own hand, Credence reached down from in the sky and gripped New York like a toy...and it broke. Credence saw clotted black blood, staining snow. He heard agonized screams and faces, floating lifelessly, and amoungst them was Newt's face, melting like wax. And even as Newt became a skeleton, Credence could hear him whisper maliciously, _You don't belong here._ And then he woke.

Credence had never had a nightmare that bad in his life. The scene sent him jumping from his bed, shaking, sweating and pacing the small room, deeply distressed. It was just a dream, he knew, but sometimes Credence's imagination was too vivid for his own good.

The dream had shed light on Credence's thoughts though; since he had told Newt all about his home and his mother and even revealed his thoughts on Graves and his heart-wrenching betrayal, he had been concerned that his decision to tell all of it had freaked Newt out a bit.

Doubts plagued Credence. He wouldn't be sleeping again any time soon, especially with that nightmare rattling around in his head. 

For a while Credence tried laying on his bed and star gazing, but even that got boring. He tried to read the books lining the walls, but the words just wouldn't sink. He got out his yew wand and admired it. Finally, Credence decided to put a pair of socks on his cold feet and traverse the downstairs.

The clock's pendulum ticked and tocked eerily in the house, but the pale light of a full moon helped Credence settle. Exploring the small house calmed him. Credence counted the windows, inspected a multitude of interesting objects placed around the house and wondered what they were for, became closely acquainted with every cupboard and investigated every room - excepting Newt's.

Credence thought the house was all very cozy, but there was one thing it lacked: photographs. Not a single family portrait, school photograph or even ornamental piece adorned the walls, which stood very blank. Credence decided then that if he couldn't pay Newt back with a source of income, he would create a piece of artwork for Newt. He had always had a bit of a talent for drawing; without art as an outlet, he didn't know how he would have fought the darkest of times. Yes: a drawing would be a good way to express gratitude.

Credence wondered a little more, then made his way back toward the attic, more or less at peace and starting to come to terms with his upsetting dream. As he passed Newt's bedroom door though, Credence heard something on the other side. A rustling of sheets. A restless body. Credence took a chance and leaned his head against the door, listening. The sound of Newt in his bed set Credence at ease; it was confirmation that he wasn't alone in the empty house. The countryside, while beautiful, was rather vacant of human life compared to New York. So Credence stood there, cold and numb, wanting so much to open the door, but content to listen.

 

Newt's POV

The day had been wonderful, but dulled by Credence's earlier spilling of thoughts, which Newt had not reciprocated on. He had had a restless sleep thinking about his decision. At one point, Newt had woken, sure it was morning, but realised he had been asleep for only an hour. The night would be a long one. It drew on, as if moving backwards.

For a while, Newt tossed and turned. The bed felt unusually uncomfortable, all of Newt's normal sleeping positions twisting something. He drifted a while, thinking, _Maybe if I lie as still as possible, I'll fall asleep eventually._ Two hours later, it didn't happen.

And then, Newt heard a creaking of floorboards: Credence. He was walking backwards and forwards in the attic, right above Newt. Newt was struck with a desire to get up and go upstairs to see Credence; they were both awake after all. After a while, he thought Credence had gone back to bed, but he then heard footsteps on the stairs outside, which trailed down and started wondering the house. But Newt still couldn't find the courage to join Credence.

Newt was trying a new combination of positions including two pillows and his scrunched T-shirt under his neck when he saw the sliver of light cast by the moon under the door fracture. Credence had stopped, and was right outside his door.

Newt went still, and a smile slowly grew on his face as a thought came to him. He was going to get Credence back for when he had turned up a couple of nights ago and scared the living daylights out of Newt.

Newt slowly slid from his bed, and started creeping barefoot across the floor, placing his feet carefully on the least creaky floorboards. He reached for the door, gripped the doorknob and yanked it open, shouting very loudly with the intention of frightening, "I'm not having any more jump scares!" But Newt didn't know Credence was leaning against the door, and was suddenly being fallen on.

They both yelled out and almost fell to the floor, but Credence caught himself -and Newt - just in time. A grin stretched across Credence's face, and he laughed as he said jokingly,

"I was just planning to frighten you again, but you beat me to it!"

Newt laughed along with Credence, still holding him closely. Credence seemed to realise Newt's bare chest was pressed against his, and he made a move to step away, but Newt allowed only a little room for Credence. He liked the warmth. Credence's fingers felt cold on his arm, but his socked feet were warm next to his.

Credence's face was smooth and sharply contrasted under the illumination of the moon, his nose sharp and the hollows of his cheeks making him appear older. Newt tried not to think of this as he spoke in a forced casual manner,  
"Couldn't sleep?" Credence nodded, his dark eyes on Newt.

"Had a nightmare."

"Really?"

"Yeah. You were there. I mean...yeah. It wasn't good."

Newt decided to let Credence go, and he moved to sit on his bed, and patted the space next to him.

"We should talk." Credence jumped to sit down next to Newt. Still cold, Newt pulled the blanket to drape around their shoulders, and was acutely aware as Credence shuffled closer. Don't get too excited now, idiot. He's just cold.

Newt continued, speaking haltingly, "I was actually pretty angry earlier. When you told me about Graves- I mean, Grindelwald - I just got a bit startled. Sometimes I can't believe what you've been through Credence. Grindelwald is not a nice person. Not nice at all...I mean, most of the horrible things that happened to Tina and Jacob and you and everyone was because of him. I know it troubled you. Rightly so. So I just want to say...thanks. For telling me. It's not that easy to talk about those kinds of things. I should know."

Newt turned to see Credence was already staring at him with those eyes of his.

"Newt?" He asked heavily.

"Hmm?"

"There's a reason you're the person I followed onto that boat-"

"-because I'm the only one who knows about obscurus'-"

"No. It's because you're the most human human I know."

Newt felt touched by his words. Credence's warmth of words and body were reaching him from a distance, softening his omnipresent barrier, and Credence himself seemed to notice this, because he moved closer, until they were shoulder to shoulder, sides touching and warmth mingling. Through his surprise, Newt could feel Credence relax against him. Eventually, Newt did too. Physical contact was strange that way. Newt couldn't fathom how he had lasted so long without the intimate skin-on-skin contact.

Credence broke the silence after a while, "Can you tell me about dragons Newt?"

Newt nodded, content to talk about a subject he was familiar with,

"Hah. OK...what do you want to know?"

"How big are they? And what types are there? And do they actually breathe fire?" Newt smiled and began.

They talked and talked. After a while, they lied down and continued talking, a small distance apart as expected, but Credence found a way to always have some body part touching Newt, like a foot or elbow. Newt didn't mind.

Eventually dragons lead to school. School led to magizoology. Magizoololgy lead to family.

The sun was barely tinging the sky as the words started to become more sparse. A pale yellow and green crept up the black and purple sky like a watercolour blend. The stars started to wink out. Newt had never felt so tired and so comfortable. He felt the tether between him and Credence had strengthened. Newts eyes, heavy-lidded, closed over, and beside him, Credence's steady breathing started to rock him into a gentle sleep, when Credence whispered,

"I hope I never leave." Newt thought the words were a dream though, because he was already in a deep, comforting sleep.


	12. Hidden Parts of Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fact about New York:  
> 1927: Amends to the state's obscenity code to ban the appearance or discussion of homosexuality on the public stage.

Credence's POV:

Credence woke slowly. The sunlight light was disappearing; it was already late morning. It took Credence a while to remember where he was: in Newt's room. In Newt's bed. In realisation of this, he turned over and saw confirmation of that fact: there he was. Newt, a confetti of freckles in blissful sleep.

They were quite close under the blankets; it had grown steadily colder as the night had turned into morning, and both Newt and Credence had sought out each other's warmth. Credence could feel Newt's feet tangled with his own, his thigh pressed against his, but Credence didn't move for fear of waking Newt. For fear of breaking the euphoric human contact.

Credence wondered why he wasn't jumping out of the bed in horror. He wondered why he noticed the small things about Newt, and why he had felt so comfortable talking with him in his godforsaken bed into the wee hours.

But really, deep down, Credence didn't have to wonder at all. He knew exactly why he felt a connection with Newt. He knew the lurking reason behind his wish to reach out and trace the planes of Newt's face right that moment. Credence just didn't want to confront that reason. He realised that he wasn't attracted to girls at all...and it frightened him, just a little.

And yet, Credence couldn't find the repulsion in himself, or the will, to move away from Newt. In New York, Credence would be prosecuted for having...thoughts for Newt. _But this is another world,_ Credence reminded himself, and he found, at that moment, he did not care about any stupid laws against homosexuality. And nestled in Newt's bed, safe in the countryside, Credence also found he couldn't give a flying fritata if Calvin Coolidge himself came marching in the room right that second. Credence couldn't take his eyes from Newt's serene, sleeping face. He couldn't stop thinking about the points of skin contact between him and Newt.

But...Credence thought. Newt might not have the same reaction as he did when he woke up. What if Newt woke, saw Credence there, and kicked him out? It was likely Newt didn't have the slightest of fuzzy feelings for Credence at all. And Credence couldn't stand that thought. He had to distance himself, or he would trip and fall really hard in love.

So he rose very slowly, climbing out of the sheets, and treading softly to the doorway. He turned back only once to run his eyes over Newt's exposed back, his shoulder blades, his spine, the lean muscles of his arms. _I can't do this,_ Credence thought darkly.

 

Newt's POV

Newt woke when he felt the mattress sink and the warmth leave. After a minute, he cracked open his eyes to see his bedroom door creaking closed. Newt sighed and whispered to himself, "Come back."

Newt settled back into the pillows and, as if his own words where echoing back off the walls, realised what he'd just said. What he felt. Newt's stomach fluttered at the thought: he'd shared his bed with Credence last night. They had talked and talked. _Ha._

Feeling strangely optimistic, Newt jumped from the bed, chucked a soft robe on and followed Credence out.

He stopped at the entrance to the kitchen when he heard a banging around. Newt poked his head around the doorway and saw Credence, back to him, searching cupboards. He found two bowls, placed them on the table, and went to searching for cereal. Newt just watched from the doorway as Credence moved, following his long fingers, loving his black hair, gazing at his shoulders through his shirt... _Stop. This is getting out of control._ Shaking himself, Newt slowly backed away, then walked in, making a show as if he just woke up.

"Morning," He said, yawning.

"Morning."

Newt went to the pantry and found the cereal.

"What do you want to do today?" He asked. Credence shrugged in reply, not meeting Newt's eyes as he accepted the box. _What's wrong?_ "We can't really do anything until we get a reply from Dumbledore. Maybe we could go try some new stuff with your wand?" Newt had expected Credence to brighten at his words, but Credence simply showed a brief smile, before he continued his solemn movements, moving to get milk, and then spoons. His lack of response worried Newt. Finally, as Credence moved to pick up his bowl, Newt stepped in front of him, blocking his way to the table. Credence looked up, startled, before his eyes fell back down.

"Credence?" Newt asked in a quiet concerned tone. Credence said nothing. The look on his face was making Newt anxious. So anxious, in fact, that he finally asked,

"What are you all mopey about?"

"Nothing." Credence said, dismissive, before he stepped around Newt and took his place at the table. Newt raised his eyebrows.

"Yeah, right. Nothing. You know you can talk to me, Creed." He didn't pick up his bowl as he sat down, closer to Credence. Credence frowned, and he said quietly,

"I'm a master of speaking silently. All my life I've spoken silently and I've lived through entire tragedies in silence." That stung a little, but Newt wasn't fooled.

"Fyodor Dostoevsky. From 'The Meek One.'" Credence's head flipped up, slightly open-mouthed at Newt's reply. Newt smiled dryly, "You know, you're not the only one who was lonely enough to read and memorize his quotes."

Finally, Credence stopped the act and looked Newt in the eyes as he said seriously,

"I just get worried sometimes. About stuff." He left it at that, and Newt didn't push it, but he could see Credence had dropped his barrier and was on the verge of emotional. The hurt and the fear - an undertone in Credence's character- had surged through. Newt couldn't stand it. He leaned forward and, so his own surprise, raised his hands and, very slowly, pulled Credence to him. Credence was stiff, but as Newt stroked his hair, he relaxed, and returned the gesture. His voice wavered dangerously as he spoke, his face pressed to Newt's chest, voice muffled by Newt's gown,

"I'm sorry. I just can't talk about it right now."

"It's OK." Newt said, and he continued Credence's hair soothingly. He felt Credence grip Newt's gown and pull him closer, nuzzling in, and heard his faltered breathing. Newt's heart beat loudly, and he was sure Credence could hear it with his ear pressed to his chest like that. They fit together so comfortably.

Everything was quiet for a while, until Newt heard an unmistakable flapping of wings incoming: an owl.

Though he hated to be interrupted, Newt slowly pulled Credence away, who sat back, rubbing his eyes, and turned to follow Newt's gaze. The owl, a speckled grey, had landed on the windowsill. Newt rose to greet it. Credence whispered,

"Is that normal?"

"Yep," Newt replied, "We use owls as a delivery system." Newt didn't have to turn around to know Credence would look confused.

Taking the letter from the owl, Newt turned it over and saw the school seal, purple wax glistening. _Already?_ Excitement growing, Newt ripped open the letter feverishly, Credence joining him. Newt's eyes scanned the letter quickly, a smile growing.

"You're not going to believe this."


	13. Confess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your comments guys xx.

CREDENCE'S POV

The grasses outside whispered as though something had shifted.

The letter read:

Mr Scamander,

I'm sorry to hear that your charge, Mr Credence Barebone, has been deprived of a magical education for so long. Although I am in no position to accept Credence into Hogwarts immediately, I shall endeavor to allow him. The current headmaster, Mr Dippet, may be persuaded.

This is dependent on whether I may meet with you and Credence in The Three Broomsticks, Hogsmeade, on a Thursday at 8am. If you need to change the date, or are able to attend, please reply currently, and we can discuss plans for Credence.

Sincerely,

Albus Dumbledore

Reading over Newt's shoulder, Credence's depressive attitude lifted quickly as he took in the sanctifying words. Newt turned to him, and they both grinned.

"That's in two days," Credence said. "We can go, right?"

"Absolutely."

Newt had already fetched a piece of paper from the stack he kept by the window and was scribbling down a reply. Credence bounced on his heel excitedly. He was on his way! He was going to meet Albus Dumbledore, a real teacher of magic! But...one thought made Credence dour.

"What about school fees? And...Modesty and Chastity?" Newt's wide smile slid from his face.

"Fees aren't necessary at Hogwarts. All you need to spend on is books and stationary, provided you get in...but about your sisters, I'm not sure. Perhaps we can ask Dumbledore about it. He's usually pretty lenient. But do you even know if your sisters have magical powers?" Credence considered his words carefully, trying to think his way around the facts. But he knew the truth couldn't be hidden. Finally he said, full of sadness,

"No. We're from different families. They wouldn't have any magic." Newt nodded in sympathy, and attached the letter to send off with the owl.

"I'm sorry Credence," He said. Credence nodded.

What could he do to help his sisters when he was all the way in Britain? All he could hope was that Chastity and Modesty would find another home. _Any home would be better that the one we had,_ Credence thought bitterly, trying to find a silver lining. And in long habit, he lifted his hands to look at them, a reminder of his home in New York.

White scars ran across Credence's palms, his fingers, even his wrists. Ridges, jagged and white with pink edges crisscrossed his hands. Credence knew they would have looked cleaner if the wounds hadn't been as ghastly, or deep, or re-opened over time. If he hadn't had to neglect them and get on with things.

Credence dropped his hands to his sides as a shadow fell over his hands from behind: Newt. Credence turned; Newt had been peering over his shoulder. The bitter, caustic look on his face told Credence that Newt hadn't been happy with what he'd seen. The livid expression frightened Credence; Newt's nose was flaring, his fists were clenched till his knuckles were white, and in the midst of that stormy look, Newt's usually warm eyes were icy. Cold as a stone buried in the unexplored antarctic. He seemed to struggle with words,

"Let me see." Newt held out his own calloused hand, asking for Credence's. It wasn't a question. It was a demand. Credence, trying to appear nonchalant, presented his hands. Despite his anger, Newt took Credence's hands delicately, turning them over and inspected closely, muttering. Still seething, he said,

"Credence, how can you have gone through all of that? I can't believe her. That bit- " He stopped. Cleared his throat. " _Jesus_ Credence. This is atrocious..." Newt dropped his hands. To Credence's bewilderment, Newt's expression softened into intense sadness. Rushing to assure Newt, Credence assured,

"It's OK Newt. I'm over it." He chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. "I mean, I'm here now. And I might be going to Hogwarts! I mean, things can't really get any better now, can they? This," He shook his hands, "Is in the past now." He picked up the letter they had received from Dumbledore, presenting it enthusiastically for evidence. He looked at Newt, who's head was now in his hands, as if he hadn't heard a thing Credence had said. Credence dropped the paper. _Oh, to hell with it._ Credence reached out, taking a chance, and placed a hand on either side of Newt's face. Newt's head flipped up, and his eyes widened, but he didn't pull away. _That's a good sign at least._ But this close, Credence couldn't not acknowledge the speed of his heart or the desire to give it all. Suddenly, like a poison, that word - gay - floated to the forefront of Credence's mind. He almost pulled his hands away at that thought. _Fag._ It was like a swear word. Credence knew it was just a label. It held no value. But he couldn't help but think that ignoring laws could have severe repercussions. So Credence waited to see if Newt would move away. He prayed Newt's warmth extended past friendship to something more.

NEWT'S POV

The moment the letter arrived had been golden. Newt found great comfort in Credence's smiling face, lighting up as a sunrise did in the dawn of the words written on that letter from Dumbledore. Hope had appeared like a hare in a field. But the gravity of the few seconds was stolen away when Newt had seen Credence's hands. He had previously only seen the scars from a distance, and he had had no idea there were _multiple._ That they would appear so violent. Horrific. Distressful.

The sight flipped Newt. He felt he had become another person when he saw Credence's hands and their puckered flesh.

But Newt didn't expect he'd end up the one being comforted by Credence. Despite his scarred hands, their warmth on Newt's face reminded him that Credence, despite all his hardships, was still a gentle being. Zephyr-like. His voice made Newt think of a secluded, cool waterfall, alone and small and only for Newt. His accent slid off his tongue in the embodiment of perfection. The notion cooled Newt to the core.

He lifted his eyes and gazed into Credence's dark ones, and a thought came to him.

It bounced around, wreaking havoc in Newt's carefully organised head. This thought, risky though it was, was reverberating down into Newt's hands. It traveled as though a knee-jerk reaction, and Newt lifted his own hands and settled them on Credence's. Holding his hands to his face.

Newt knew exactly how this looked, and it frightened him that his careful control was slipping. He was putting himself way out in the open showing affection this way. It was an uncharacteristic risk on Newt's part. So he watched Credence's face. Searching for a hint of panic. Apprehension. Maybe even dismay. But it didn't appear.

Credence shuffled closer. His hips were so damn close to Newt's. His stomach tensed. Newt's breath tickled Credence's hair. They did not break eye contact.

Eventually, Credence spoke. Slowly and deliberately, but with confidence.

"What is this?"

With the atmosphere so heavy, Newt struggled to make a decision. Obviously Credence had feelings for him, right? Finally he answered,

"I don't know."

But Newt now moved his hands to rest on Credence's shoulders. Credence let his hands drop to mirror Newt. He sighed.

"You know Newt... I really like you."

"Funnily enough." Newt joked, though he was serious. Credence didn't laugh.

"I'm deadly serious Newt. I like you as...more than a friend." He stopped. Newt realised that Credence was waiting to see if he would confirm thoughts: Do you like me too? Credence continued, "It's just that...well..." He looked annoyed now. "This," His eyes flickered between them, "Isn't really conventional."

Newt let his hands drop. He could see Credence's slight desperation. How his body convulsively followed Newt's hands, as if seeking them out. The sight pleased Newt.

He sat in a chair, and beckoned Credence to take another. He began, trying to set Credence at ease,

"I am aware of laws back in New York." Credence nodded. "Being attracted to the same sex..." Newt forced himself to say it; "Being gay is likely to destroy your social life in an instant in New York. But I want to tell you that things here a different." Newt did not miss Credence's wince at the word 'gay.' He continued, "The wizarding world is very acceptant of all peoples. If you take the time to notice, you will see men with men and women with women amoungst the magical crowd. And in light of this, I would like to say that I like you too Credence." _There. I said it._

"What?" Credence's voice rose, with a touch of astonishment.

"Did I stutter? I love you for who you are Credence. There's not another soul I can talk to as much as you."

Newt fell silent, embarrassed at his blatant way of speech, but anticipating Credence's reaction. He could see a small smile on Credence's face. He looked a bit crazed. Newt waited. Had he made the right decision in his confession? 

And then the best thing possible happened: finally, Credence whispered,

"I never thought I'd have a friend in the world. And now...I have something more. Because I really, really like you too Newt."


	14. Ethereal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> May I say that Libba Bray is a big inspiration of mine. Thanks for your comments!

Credence's POV

The confessions stretched like ropes across the chasm between Newt and Credence. The ropes, made from truth and empathy - and maybe a hint of love - entwined to form a bridge between the two that couldn't be hacked away by anything. _Friends._ That's still what Credence called them in his head. He wasn't going to call it anything else yet because a friend at this point was more than Credence had ever hoped for. To try to call the relationship something more seemed almost...greedy. Credence felt that if he were to take more of this metaphorical cake, the cake would turn out to be poisoned. Both he and Newt were in unexplored waters. Some mutual agreement had made itself known: Go slow. Savor every moment.

It seemed there was no limit to Credence's happiness now. Until previously, he had not thought he could feel so open and relaxed.

Now, Credence saw Newt walking around the house with fresh eyes. He let himself admire Newt's contours and planes. He still, of course, pretended to stare at something else when Newt turned around. But still...the point in Credence's chest pulsed with a new vigor, and now he thought he could identify what the feeling was: desire.

Until midday of The Best Day of Credence's life (as he named it), Credence helped Newt clean up the house and garden. The hard work would hopefully get Credence's head back in the game, instead of floating around in dream land.

Newt had out his wand, but he'd warned Credence against using his.

"Sorry Creed, but now that I know how reckless your power is, I'm a bit wary to let you use it around the house....I hope you don't mind. You just need practise. You just might blow something away." Credence had nodded, saying,

"It's OK. I get it." Credence had, of course, been absolutely dying to try his wand out. But soon enough, Credence reminded himself, he would be using his wand continuously; the meeting with Dumbledore was just two sleeps away, as was Credence's magical education, hopefully. Every time Credence thought of this, he smiled like a maniac and continued sweeping the floor with renewed energy. After morning tea, eager to help Newt in an attempt to earn his keep, Credence attacked the encroaching hedge outside in the 11am humidity with his secateurs. He was enjoying the ache in his arms, relishing the whip of the branches on his face. _Because soon, I will be able to use magic to absolutely cleaver this damned tree._ Even as a branch whipped a line of skin off Credence's arm, Credence shrugged it off. His excitement was making him immune to the sting.

Credence had noticed Newt peering at him worriedly from the hedge he was working on a few meters away. He yelled out,

"Credence, you really don't have to help me with this. Honestly, I can get this done myself. You've got a cut on your arm!" Newt had been using his wand to hack at his hedge, muttering the word _Diffindio_ repeatedly. Credence simply shrugged.

"I'm enjoying it," he said, "And besides, one day soon I can use my wand for work like this. Better use my arms while I have them!" Newt laughed and shrugged. 

"If you're so sure then." Credence smiled to himself. Until recently, he hadn't known he had the humour in him. _Then Newt came along._

NEWT'S POV

Newt had been putting off the housework for weeks, and now the dues had come. Now that he had confessed his feeling for Credence, Newt thought keeping himself busy would be much better than sitting around waiting for something to happen.

He hadn't expected Credence to help though; he had jumped in with the eagerness of a puppy. A slightly feverish one, Newt now thought, because he attacked the bush with those rusty secateurs like his life depended on it, and a small smile was on his face the whole time. But Newt couldn't help but smile to himself; perhaps Credence, like him, was craving some mind-numbing action.

The humidity hung down like a blanket. Newt stood back for a moment, took off his hat and wiped the sweat from his brow, admiring how the garden was starting to shape up. The midday heat had all the birds in the shade of the trees, silent. The only sound was of branches hitting the grass as Credence moved along. Newt turned watch him. He gazed unashamedly as Credence stretched up to get at the higher branches, and his shirt rose up, exposing skin. Newt paid attention to the pull of muscle, the strength of his grip. He remembered the feel of Credence's body against when they had sat together last night, and could almost feel the warmth of his hands on his face.

Newt knew many things about Credence, yet he was still a mystery in many ways. Newt found he wanted to know his secrets, but not in an invasive way. He wanted Credence to want to reveal his whole self to Newt. Newt wanted to prove trustworthy. Loveable. But most of all, Newt wanted Credence to want him too. He watched Credence's hands at work and imagined them caressing his bare skin, imagined the taste of that cool mouth on his, the press of his body.

Newt shook his head. _He said he really liked you. That doesn't mean he wants you like you do him._ And yet, Newt couldn't stop. Finally, he caught Credence's eye, and a thought came to him out of the blue:

"How about a swim?"

A little creek ran not too far from Newt's home, and although it was usually swamped with snakes, especially in the day's odd heat, the thought of cool water was well worth a walk. Newt's fair skin needed a break from the beating sun, and it looked like Credence needed a cool off too.

So they set off right away, intending to wear the clothes they were in. Newt lead Credence in the direction of the snow-capped blue mountain range, far away. The snow melt from the mountains ran nearby Newt's house, and it usually warmed up enough by the time it reached the swimming hole.

The two broke into a jog as the sound of the running water drifted up from a small valley. The scent of damp earth wafted around, and the temperature dropped as the trees thickened. The leaves crunched underfoot and the birds sang sweetly.

"This is beautiful," Credence said, as they emerged into the secluded clearing. The water hole, threaded through by a clear, pebbly creek, presented itself sparkling. Bees hummed happily, and rich green foliage swayed in the slightest of breezes.

Newt tugged off his shoes and took off his shirt, laying it on a boulder, and whooping as he ran for the water, and jumped. The cool hit him hard, but after a few strokes, he was already warmed up. It was blissful. Newt was flicking his hair from his eyes as he heard the thud of feet...

Credence followed at a sprint, and he leaped from an outcrop of rock, bomb-diving into the depths. The water sprayed high, leaving a fine mist in the sun-speckled air. Newt watched through the crystal clear waters as Credence swam underneath, and emerged on the other side of Newt, taking a deep breath. "Woah."

Newt smiled. "Yeah."

The both tread water, glaring through the surface to see the bottom of the rocky pool, lit up by the sunlight. Small black fish flitted to and fro. Newt glanced at Credence, who was now on his back, floating with his eyes closed, a serene look on his face. His shirt was transparent, and the sunlight highlighted the contours of his face. His short black hair waved in the water. Newt sighed in contentment. He had never shown anyone the creek, and he couldn't have been happier that the first person to share the secret with was Credence. Newt joined Credence floating on his back, closing his eyes and hearing nothing with his ears under the water. He found Credence's hand, so they wouldn't drift apart.


	15. Sublime

CREDENCE'S POV

The weightlessness of Credence's body in the water correlated with his lucent mind. Everything was beautiful. With worries diminutive as they were, Credence floated easily.

Channeling the freedom he felt, Credence closed his eyes, feeling nothing but the cool of the water on his skin and hearing nothing but his heart beat in his ears below the surface. Watching the inside of his eyelids, he felt a hand close over his. He had been expecting it to.

Credence turned his head slightly and opened his eyes the way a child did when they were pretending to be asleep but wanting to see through the slit of their peeking eyes.

Newt looked how Credence felt. Tranquil. And perfect.

Credence's slitted eyes were drawn to the dappled light which played across Newt's torso. Perhaps it was the light playing tricks, but to Credence, it looked like Newt had a long, thin, white scar running diagonal from his collarbone to breastbone. But under the shifting water, Credence couldn't be certain. _I guess I'm not the only one hiding scars._

*

Clothes still dripping, they walked back to the house when the trees' shadows stretched long and the birds had started to sing as the heat lifted. Out of the blue,

"I call it the mountain's breath," Newt said. Credence inclined his head, waiting for explanation. Newt gestured to the distant blue mountain range, "In the morning, the cold rushes away as the mountain breathes in and the heat settles, like the range is holding it's breath." Credence loves Newt's melodious lilt of a voice as he explains. "In the afternoon, it lets it go, and the cool breath rushes down the valley, across the land. And then the mountain breathes in again in the morning." Newt shrugged. "I just thought it was a nice way to describe it."

"It's a nice analogy," Credence said simply. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Newt blush slightly at the praise. He decided then that he would compliment Newt more often. Like Credence, Newt exuded mystery. These little moments - when Newt was kind of poetic - revealed just a little more of the Newt below his reserved exterior.

Later, the skies darkened and the stars winked on as the two sat at the table eating dinner in comfortable silence. Credence was on his second mouthful when he remembered with a shock: "I haven't given thanks for weeks!" He dropped his fork immediately, ignoring Newt's smirk, clapped his hands together and whispered fervently, "I'm sorry, God, that I haven't been saying thanks, but to make up for that, I offer you my own words: I thank you for my food, and would you kindly bless the people who prepared it and give them happiness." Trying not to think of the walloping he would have gotten at home for such a short and overdue grace, Credence picked up his fork and continued eating, oblivious until he heard Newt crow softly. Credence looked up, but Newt was just shaking his head, smiling.

 

NEWT'S POV

It's funny how something that's meant to be good - giving thanks- becomes a chore sometimes. Newt thinks that Credence's 'giving thanks' had been forgotten because he was enjoying himself. He had shed the routine of his past. Under his mother's watch, Credence probably said grace at every meal. Shedding that old routine was probably a good thing, oddly enough. The notion reminded Newt,

"Speaking of things forgotten, I haven't shown you something important yet."

"What's that?" Credence inquired.

"I've been taking care of my animals the whole time you've been here, but you wouldn't know they exist because I keep them in my suitcase." Newt glanced up to watch Credence's reaction to this news and wasn't disappointed: he looked horrified. And after a second he just looked like he thought Newt was a nutter. But what made Newt actually laugh out loud was when he said outright,

"Oh, dry up Newt! _I keep them in a suitcase._ " Credence imitated in a mocking voice. Newt laughed. The cheek! He adopted a high-and-mighty tone as he replied,

"Well, fine, I was going to show you my friend Pickett and the erumpet and things. But if you still don't believe in magic and think magizoology isn't a real profession, then never mind!" Newt's plate was scraped clean, so he got up to wash the dishes, feigning anger but hiding a smile.

He heard footsteps behind his, and then a hand was on his shoulder and another tugging the plate from Newt's hand. To Newt's surprise, when he turned to look at Credence's face, it was full of regret. His voice had a note of pleading,

"I'm so sorry Newt. You're right. I should have believed you." Credence's sudden change of attitude shocked Newt. He sighed, letting Credence stack the dishes next to the sink. He obviously didn't know satire when he heard it, and thought he had actually offended Newt. So Newt stopped Credence with a hand on the arm,

"Credence?" He hated how Credence's shoulders sagged, how his head didn't lift from the ground. As if he were going to be punished.

Newt took Credence's chin softly in his fingers, tilting his head up. Credence's eyes were pools. Newt couldn't find the words. He searched for the right thing to say, but ended up just stating lamely, "It's OK." The only way he was going to fix this would be to show Credence the case of creatures. It would put him out of the blues. So Newt led him towards his room.

They walked into the room, Credence trailing behind. Newt knelt and pulled the leather suitcase out from under his bed. He opened it, stood, and took a step back. He turned to an unnerved Credence, smiling reassuringly.

"Let's go then!" And he walked down the narrow flight of stairs into the depths of the suitcase.

 

CREDENCE'S POV

He followed Newt disbelievingly.

What more could happen now? There was a room in Newt's suitcase. Credence repeated that again as he took it in: _Here is a room. In a suitcase._ At this point, Credence didn't know what _couldn't_ happen in the magical world. He felt a pang of regret again for doubting Newt. But that regret morphed quickly into utter astonishment as Credence walked through the door frame and _holy smokes this isn't just a room._

He couldn't believe it. He turned on the spot, open-mouthed, trying to take it in, but the fact he was inside a suitcase and viewing this hit Credence's brain and bounced off. Breath taken away, Credence stared in absolute awe as Newt waved him forward and they wondered through the suitcase and different habitats were revealed to Credence. A desert presented itself, and then a forest, and then room after room. Credence's eyes sought out Newt, the only normal thing in the suitcase, to ground him to reality. Newt was grinning at him, attractive as always, and was in no way going to cure Credence's lack of oxygen at that point. Newt was rattling off facts and information as they saw the animals, and Credence caught words like 'niffler' and 'demiguise' and 'bowtruckle', but Newt's words really just went through one ear and out the other as he took in the majesty. The animals were diverse and astounding. Credence found himself hanging off Newt's shoulders, gazing around. He was dizzy and overwhelmed, and thankfully, Newt caught Credence around the waist before he could drop to the ground.

With Newt's hands gripping his waist, Credence's spacey head was suddenly screwed on very tightly. Sound drained away. And with his eyes finally still, Credence could be captivated by Newt, all cheekbones and freckles and effortless grace. Credence's arms moved to drape themselves over Newt's shoulders. Oh god...he was so damn magnetic. Credence's stomach wrenched as Newt pulled him closer, pressing his pelvis into Credence's already tight one. Nobody spoke, but they were both clearly thinking of earlier confessions of love.

Newt's eyes were dark, and the sultry gravity of the moment abruptly turned into one wholly sensual and heading quickly into sexually exciting. Credence's hands drifted up to run through Newt's messy russet hair, and he smiled softly as Newt's head fell forward to rest on his shoulder, relaxing under Credence's hands as they wondered down to Newt's shoulders, tracing his shoulder blades, his back, his fingers following his spine, up and down, feeling his lithe frame. It just felt natural, and by Newt's quickened breathing in his ear, it felt good too. Newt sighed contently, his arms now wrapped around Credence and his breath cool on Credence's neck, provoking a shiver. The hairs on his arms and the back of his neck rose, and the shiver traveled down his own spine. Newt followed it with his fingers.

Credence suppressed a sigh at the feeling. He leant back, and Newt lifted his head. Their noses were almost touching. They gazed into each other's eyes, absorbed. And then Newt's eyes landed down where Credence guessed was his mouth. Credence couldn't stop staring at Newt's mouth either.

He didn't let thoughts come into the decision. He let any pain or hesitation he was harboring go. He just wanted to do what he wanted to do for _once._ So Credence placed a hand at the base of Newt's neck, leaned in, and kissed him.

He didn't really know what he was doing...he just knew that it felt good. Newt replied eagerly, and his hands ran through Credence's short hair now, pressing ever closer. Newt guided the kiss so it was slow and light at first, and then deepened.

Credence wanted the pressure in his body -especially down _there_ \- to be let out. But he didn't know how. He let out a groan, and Newt deepened the kiss in reply, and their bodies fit together, tension building. No hands went under shirts and no item of clothing left a body. But to Credence, it was the closest you could get. The most sublime you could reach. He forgot about where he was, and just felt Newt's body against his.


	16. Infatuated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I've never actually written anything like this before so yeah...hope it turned out ok. This is for you kids who've been waiting FOR EVA for something sexy ;) Thanks for your comments guys...it keeps me coming back. Constructive criticism welcome! Kiss kiss

NEWT'S POV

Newt lay in bed on a high.  
The desire had penetrated Newt's usually thick skin and seeped right down to his core, and now the symptoms of the kiss were evident; it was so late at night, yet his brain buzzed. His mouth tingled. His skin prickled. His hands shook. A perpetual smile had taken up residence on Newt's face, and it ached. Newt raised his hand to his mouth and brushed his fingers across his lips. He could taste Credence there, like the secluded waterfall he had imagined. He didn't expect it to be so intoxicating.

He lay in bed and pictured Credence in the room above him. The simple thought brought goosebumps.

He regretted saying no.

CREDENCE'S POV

Credence could feel the passion of the kiss radiating from his insides out. He traced the same paths Newt's fingers had made on his arms and face, brushing his fingertips against his skin, light as a feather. The heat was evident in patterns like veins, and it left Credence covered in a light sheen of sweat. The buzz at his temples was damp and a trickle of sweat ran down his back just like Newt's fingertips had. And despite the heat, the hairs on Credence's arms stood on end.

He shivered, and closed his eyes, picturing Newt against him again. He imagined Newt in the bed with him, on top of him, kissing him, holding him as no one ever had...at this, Credence flipped over and buried his face in the pillow, biting back a scream, fisting the sheets in his hands. He'd never wanted someone so much. He'd never been touched and held so much in all his life as he had in the last hour. _How can I have lived so long without it?_ The memory of Percival Graves emerged when he had put his hand on Credence's face, and Credence felt renewed revulsion at the memory.

Newt's kiss had absolutely demolished the flood gates, and now the river was drowning him silly.

When they were in the suitcase, Credence had asked to share Newt's bed. Not in the way a lover would, of course. He just wanted to be next to Newt. Newt had made a pained expression, but, reluctantly, had whispered, _I don't want to move too fast,_ as he ran his hands up Credence's arms. He had looked a little wild. Credence had sighed and nodded -disappointed but sympathetic - as he always did. He wished he would have pushed the point now, because he knew Newt had been on the edge of saying yes. Now Credence would have to wait till morning. Morning! How dull...

NEWT'S POV

Newt stood in the kitchen, that smile on his face as he whipped up an omelet in a bowl. He felt like the smile hadn't left him since his lips had parted with Credence's last night.

And the smile broadened as he heard Credence's steady footsteps creep up behind him, and long arms wrapped around his torso. The smile turned into a lazy smirk as lips brushed Newt's neck. A thrill traveled from head to toe as Newt turned on his heel in Credence's arms and met his lips, keeping his eyes open so he could admire the lines of Credence's face, his strong jaw, his deep eyes, his...oh jeez. Newt forgot about it; Credence had gripped and pressed his hips into Newt's as Newt had the night before, and had started trailing feather-light kisses down his neck. Newt couldn't stop the sigh breaking his lips.

"I wasn't expecting this," He choked out. Credence broke away and, in answer, smiled a smile Newt had never seen before but hoped he'd see again: mischievous and reckless. And a tantalizing glint in his eyes, as a complimentary. This was a Credence Newt had only just discovered, and it drove him crazy.

Newt loved that smirk playing on Credence's face, and it sparked a yearning to see more of this side of Credence. So Newt kissed those dirty lips, and briefly wondered how the morning had turned so sexy as he ran his hands under the back Credence's pajama shirt. He hadn't meant to cross this small barrier, but as Credence's soft mouth hit his, the impulse had taken over. Credence's skin was so beautifully smooth, and his back arched to Newt's touch. Newt wanted to see that body beneath the shirt...but he didn't want to skip ahead on Credence. But Credence seemed to have other ideas as he pressed Newt back against the table, his kiss deep and needy, body pressing. _Do it,_ a voice whispered seductively. _What?_ Newt didn't know. But he knew where the line was: Credence had been alone for so long, and he probably had never touched someone so freaking desperately as he was now. Would it be 'taking advantage' to move ahead? Newt made a quick decision -well, as much of a decision as he could with his head doing infatuated spirals - that he would let Credence make the moves. If Credence wanted to step over lines, Newt was more than happy to let him. But he would let Credence do it.

Newt held Credence's waist roughly, matching his desperation, tongue feeling, hands traveling, body pulsing. His pants felt so tight. So damn tight, he just wanted so much to rip Credence's shirt off, and his pants, and his underwear, and...crap. Credence moaned, and Newt so nearly broke the promise he had just made to himself about lines. _I must let him make the moves._

CREDENCE'S POV

Credence didn't know what took him over when he walked down the stairs and saw Newt standing there, back to him. Now that the dam wall had broken, he saw Newt's broad back and his strong arms and just had to do something to feel them against him again. The longing Credence felt far surpassed anything he'd ever felt for Graves. Graves' small offerings of contact had been fleeting commodities in a harsh world. But in this world, what Credence had always wanted was standing right there, an offering of unlimited potential. He was starving for affection. The desire propelled Credence forward, and he crept like a cat and pounced.

He didn't know Newt would receive him so well, and only then Credence realized just how deep the hunger ran. Newt's matched lust had Credence ossified. Blotto. His freckles, his deep green eyes, his cheekbones, his _everything_ was intoxicating and invigorating. And when Newt started running his hands under Credence's shirt...Credence's thoughts fled, and his body took control. Animalistic instincts took over, and Newt's eager movements and deep but quiet groans spurred him on to no ends.

Credence pushed Newt against the bench and grinded against him, moving his tongue like Newt's. He placed his hands on Newt's waist and ever so slowly worked them upwards, feeling Newt's stomach convulse. Newt's lean muscles rippled at his touch, and he pulled Credence to him in reaction, lifting him up. Credence's hands played across Newt's torso, and he enjoyed making Newt squirm. He had never had control over anyone before, and it felt so damn good to have Newt to himself. Make him groan. Make him sweat. Credence wanted to push himself and Newt as hard against the barrier between shirt and shirtless as he could. His tongue left Newt's mouth and traveled, ever so lightly, down his pale neck and across his collarbone.

Newt's hands, which had previously been playing in Credence's hair, tugged in response, and Credence couldn't help but arch his neck back at the aggression. Newt took advantage of the moment and brought his mouth to Credence's neck instead, grazing his teeth over his Adam's apple, kissing his soft skin aggressively, running the tip of his cool tongue across the hollow of Credence's collar bone. Credence lost control again, but he wanted it back, so, impulsive, his hands advanced to Newt's pants and hovered over a hard lump, obvious under his pants. Credence almost went over the elastic band around Newt's waist, until-

A loud shatter startled the two out of their reverie. Credence opened his eyes, and followed Newt's to the floor, where a shattered bowl and it's contents lay. Credence registered that he and Newt were breathing heavily, and his lips were sore. His fingers were brushing at the light hairs that made a trail down Newt's stomach and disappeared below the line. Credence found he didn't really care.

Newt stared at the bowl on the ground nonchalantly, but with a touch of annoyance; the bowl breaking had interfered with their make out, after all. Newt met Credence's eyes, and suddenly Credence realized how crazy this was. They both laughed.

"I must have elbowed the bowl," Newt chuckled. He knelt down and started picking up the shattered pieces, and Credence fell to help. He wanted to continue where they had left off, but his stomach felt so empty it ached. Breakfast would have to take precedence over the kiss, at least for a few minutes. Credence sighed, irritated by the interruption, but still reveling in the kiss and how close he had come.


	17. Our Clearing

NEWT'S POV

After breakfast (which included a lot of silent smirks directed across the table) Newt decided the kitchen had grown stuffy. He desperately needed to get some oxygen flowing into his brain. So he asked Credence casually,

"Do you want to go practice some new spells?" Credence sat up from his slouch in the chair, a grin spreading as he chanted,

"Yes yes yes yes yes yes yes..." He continued the tirade as he got up and ran through the kitchen and thundered up the stairs to get ready. Newt couldn't help but smile as he went into his own room and shut the door.

He found Credence already outside once he had gotten dressed and packed a bag for the day. The morning light cast Credence into a silhouette outlined in a golden light. Newt was getting used to seeing Credence in these perfect moments, but he still stopped and admired for a second, before shaking his head vigorously. As he walked toward the trail, Newt's hand spontaneously reached out and took Credence's. He caught Credence in the corner of his eye, an adorable little smile on his face. Newt squeezed his hand as they began their walk on the trail into the sequestered field.

CREDENCE'S POV

Credence didn't know who he was anymore...and it was a marvelous feeling. It was like the Credence Barebone who had lived in New York was phonus balonus all along, and now, finally, Newt had let Credence talk about himself, be himself and do as he wanted for himself, to a point. This wasn't new news. But Credence thought of it often.  
As they walked along the trail, Credence held his wand in one hand and Newt in the other, and he thought those were the only two things he would ever need to survive.

The two eventually emerged into the clearing, heralded by diving swallows and the whistling stand of trees. Newt placed his backpack on the grass, then turned to Credence, pulling his own wand from his pants pocket.

"Let's begin."

They went over wingardium leviosa, aguamenti and accio, spells Credence had learnt last time with Newt's wand. The movements came easier and results almost immediately this time; Credence's wand responded perfectly. Almost diligently. To Credence, the wand in his hand even felt loyal...if a piece of wood could do that.

As the sun topped the trees, they moved onto silencio and even mobilicorpus, which had Credence laughing out loud as he levitated Newt off the ground and moved him in a circle. There was only one spell Credence couldn't master, which was geminio.

"It's used to create a duplicate of any object, and it lasts several hours," Newt said, as he pulled a salt grinder from his pack and placed it at their feet. Credence crouched down, excited by the prospect of duplicating the object, and, using the movement Newt had taught him, chanted, "Geminio."

Nothing happened. Credence looked to Newt, who raised his eyebrows and said, "Well finally, something you didn't do almost straight away!"

Credence laughed, but he concentrated harder when he tried again. The salt grinder quivered, and an identical outline appeared next to it. Credence grew excited, and then it vanished. He sighed irritantly and tried again. And again. All lightheartedness was gone by the eighth try. He sat back on his heels and huffed.

"This is frustrating." Newt chuckled.

"Yeah, well, it's really a spell that should take years of your schooling life to master. It's ok...you've progressed very well." He paused. "What about lunch?" Credence nodded, disappointed he hadn't got the trick yet, but too hungry to keep going. He got up to join Newt, thinking they were heading back to the house, but Newt stopped them, opening his backpack and reaching into it. Credence looked harder: Newt's arm was disappearing up to his armpit in the backpack.

"What's kind of back pack is that?" He asked, amazed. _Though,_ he supposed, _if you can fit a room inside a suitcase you can probably fit one in a backpack._

Newt smiled sheepishly. "I thought we could have lunch outside for once." He withdrew a blanket and lay it within reach of the forestry's cool shadow. Credence smiled.

"That sounds jake."

*

Credence stood on the edge of the blanket and felt a swelling in his chest; Figs, brie cheese and bread lay out on plates. Newt sat on the edge of the blanket, a twinkle in his eye. Credence flopped down next to him, and, unable to resist that face of his, laid a soft kiss on the edge of his mouth. He mumbled,

"This looks really nice. I love brie." Newt seemed to be battling a grin as he said,

"Yeah. And I brought something I've been waiting to share with someone for ever..." He paused and pulled a black bottle from the backpack. "It's vintage." Credence's eyes widened. Newt continued, "I thought it would make this," his eyes flickered between them, "More...I don't know. Nice." Newt wouldn't meet Credence's eyes; he seemed a tad embarrassed. Rushing to assure, Credence spoke softly in the serenity of the clearing,

"I've only tasted wine at church. Apart from that, alcohol is actually illegal in the U.S. But a glass would be nice." Newt's eyes softened, and he nodded. Credence fought the urge to kiss him again.

NEWT'S POV

The wine had been given to Newt a long time ago. A present gievn to him back in the dragon-working days. It was good wine, but Newt hadn't wanted to enjoy it alone. He had expected it would be standing in the cabinet for years waiting for someone to join Newt, but luckily, Credence had turned up. Newt had hoped it wouldn't be cheesy to bring the wine along...he didn't really know much about romance. But he knew that you couldn't go with red wine, good cheese, soft-and-also-crispy bagette and perfect company.

They toasted to happy days, and lay on their stomachs, savoring the food , sipping the wine and talking for a long, long time about Dumbledore and Hogwarts and New York and many other more personal things. Credence said he loved it all, and that was all Newt needed to hear.

After a while, Newt moved the empty plates back into the pack. They both slipped off their shoes and stretched out on their backs, watching the clouds make their steady way across the azure sky, still talking, growing more reckless as the alcohol took effect. Eventually though, words grew further apart, and Newt felt sleepy and content. He turned on his side and placed his head on his hand, meeting Credence's eyes. He spoke lazily, made careless by the wine,

"I never thought I would end up here. I've had relationships before, but never like this."

Credence cracked a smile. His words were faintly slurred,

"Well I've never even been in a relationship."

Newt scoffed. "Your mother probably wouldn't of allowed it."

Credence snorted softly, "Yeah. Or maybe I was just too scared to look for someone. Or too unlovable." He smiled sadly. Newt's eyebrows met.

"Don't say that."

"It's true," Credence said defiantly, then added, the corner of his mouth turned upward, "But it doesn't really matter, 'cause apparently you like me."

"I love you," Newt corrected. It took him an obscenely long time to realize what he had just said. When he met Credence's eyes again, for a moment it felt like the alcohol had left his system. The only sound was the wind in the trees.

"Do you really?" Credence asked. He was deadly serious. Newt didn't hesitate,

"Of course I do. Nobody in the world knows this much about me. I feel like I don't know anyone as well as I do you. I really...I really do love you Credence." The words and the name slid from his tongue like none did.

Credence's eyes were unclouded and exposed. Finally, he said in the softest whisper,

"Prove it."


	18. Blossoming Rapidly

NEWT'S POV

Did he really just say that? He did. Newt repeated Credence's words slowly in his head: _prove it._ Prove love.

Newt lifted his gaze to Credence. He was waiting patiently, eyes heavily lidded. His lips were parted. His hair ruffled. His cheekbones...god. They killed. Newt lifted his hand and traced the line from ear to corner of mouth. Credence closed his eyes for a brief second at the delicate touch. Newt let drunk words slip from his mouth,

"You know you're so pretty. So handsome..." he drawled, as he moved to be on top of Credence and placed his elbows on either side of his flawless face. Credence smiled and the slightest blush crept up his cheeks, and when it did, Newt really did think there was nothing more perfect. Credence's accent was silky to Newt's ears as he spoke,

"I think you are more beautiful than anything I've ever seen."

"Yeah right," Newt quipped. Credence moved his hands to Newt's waist, continuing as if Newt hadn't said anything,

"I think you're more beautiful than all the British countryside put together." Newt laughed softly in reply, and his breath tickled Credence's hair as he said,

"You see this?" He tapped Credence's nose. "You know you've got a ruler on your face right?" Credence started laughing, and Newt could feel the rumble in his chest. "Your nose is that straight." Credence moved his hands under Newt's shirt and rubbed circles in his lower back. Newt almost kissed him then, but Credence spoke,

"I don't have a good simile for you. But I never thought I could like freckles this much. Or a mouth so..." He stopped, and grimaced. "Are you going to kiss me?"

Newt chuckled, but he closed the small distance between them as he whispered, "So impatient..." Their lips finally met. Newt tried to keep their kiss deep and rhythmic at first. As though from another planet, echoing over a vast distance, he could hear the birds squawking, the breeze in the grass, and Credence's paced but quickening breathing. Then Credence started running his hands through Newt's hair again, and their kiss turned intense. A surge went through Newt from the core to the fingertips as Credence's tongue entwined with his, and the electricity jerked Newt's hands to the bottom of Credence's shirt. Credence opened his eyes for a second, and he seemed to register Newt's hesitation. He smiled daringly, and slid out from under Newt, reaching for his T-shirt. They didn't have to speak; as though reading minds, both removed their shirts, tossed them aside and continued their kiss, but this time with a renewed fervor. Credence pushed Newt to the blanket so he could lean over, pressing against him. The skin-on-skin contact drove Newt crazy. His excitement became incarnate and he let out a quiet moan.

Newt sat up and urgently kissed Credence's pale neck, and a tantalizing smile dawned on Credence's face at Newt's mouth. Newt started to move down his neck, trailing kisses down his chest and torso whilst running his fingers down Credence's sides too, drawing out goose bumps on his skin. Newt loved how he made Credence shut his eyes and open his mouth at the feeling, so he continued tickling his skin all the way to his pants, and then under. He looked to Credence, whose head was still tilted back as he sighed deeply at Newt's touch. Newt slowly moved to the danger zone, teasing that look out of him...he stroked Credence's hard member, trying to give him a hint. Credence's eyes were tightly shut. Newt wanted to see Credence's face when he came. He wanted to give him an orgasm. He couldn't resist saying,

"You think this feels good Creed?"

Credence opened his eyes. Abruptly, he looked uncomfortable. _Crap._ Newt drew his hands back to himself, and just kissed Credence lightly instead. He'd gone over a boundary, and he hated that he'd advanced too fast. Credence was almost unresponsive to Newt's kiss.

"I'm sorry." Newt whispered, and he sat back. Credence shook his head, and now he just looked annoyed.

"No, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I balked." Newt sighed.

"No. I came onto you too fast..." Credence said nothing. A mosquito which had drifted out of the forestry landed on Newt's arm. Credence slapped it, and it left a red blot. He stared fixedly at it.

Newt took his chin, tilting his head and forcing him to look into his eyes. Credence took Newt's hand and pressed it to his face, and the slightly awkward moment dissipated. Credence pulled Newt to him, passionately kissing him again.

CREDENCE'S POV

He'd been reckless before, daring Newt to prove his love. In all honesty, it was the wine that had made Credence say it. When Newt kissed him, he lost control. He got lost in Newt's lips on his skin, so he was barely aware as Newt moved past the pant line to that intimate place, and then Credence realised his daring had been ill-advised by alcohol. He wasn't ready for all of this yet.

Now Credence gazed into Newt's green eyes and he wasn't uncomfortable. He knew Newt overlooked his inexperience. He knew they had all the time in the world, and if Newt's hands and mouth had felt good then, they would feel amazing later, when Credence was more willing.

He kissed Newt again, and the moment was forgotten.

After a while, they pulled apart and just lay entangled on the soft blanket in comfortable silence, listening to the meadow's sounds. Both had small indulgent smiles that never left their faces. Newt lay his head on Credence's arm, and Credence traced the thin white scar on his chest. He spoke in a hush,

"What gave you this?"

"Hebridean Black. Agressive dragon." A multitude of questions popped into Credence's head, as they did when Newt mentioned a subject concerned with the magical world.

"How'd it happen?" Newt caught Credence's hand and kissed his knuckles as he spoke,

"Trying to cage it. When you're trying to cage certain dragons, a bunch of guys stand around it, distracting it from all angles. Bad idea for this one; the dragon got agitated and twirled around. I got a spiked tail to the chest." Credence swore under his breath.

"Was it really bad?"

"It was more of a clip. And we have healers on hand at all times, so I was ok." Newt shrugged. Credence sighed at his nonchalance.

"Just casually got clipped by a dragon," he joked, and snuggled closer to Newt. The sun had started to go down, and the cold seeped toward them from the shadows. Credence abstractly remembered the obscurus his body had hosted and how Newt's warmth of body and spirit had saved him from the numbing darkness. Newt was protection against all that was alien and wrong in Credence's world even now, and Credence wondered when and if bad luck would catch up with him. _This is too perfect for the world,_ he thought. Newt jogged him out of his head,

"You know we're going to see Dumbledore tomorrow?"

"Ah." Credence felt a surge of excitement mingled with a tang of anxiety at that reminder. What if he wasn't good enough to learn more of magic? But...what if he was good enough, and he had to leave for Hogwarts? Credence didn't think he would ever do such a thing, even for magic. Newt stroked his worries away though, as he smoothed Credence's hair.

"Don't worry. It's going to be great."


	19. Meeting Dumbledore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Libba Bray is inspo for this one. btw, next chapter will hold some cringy goodness for you readers who have stuck around :)

CREDENCE'S POV

Eventually, the cold got the better of the two, and they left the cool serenity of the meadow for the warmth of the house. That night, Credence got into his own bed, but as soon as his head hit the pillow, he knew he couldn't sleep alone in his own bed that night. He jumped up and headed to Newt's room.

Newt was asleep, curled toward the wall. Credence slipped in behind him, matching the arch of him. He draped his arm across Newt's side. Newt stirred, lacing his fingers in Credence's. Eventually, Credence drifted into soothing, untroubled dreams, lulled to sleep by Newt's steady breathing.

Morning dawned quickly as time was spurred on by excitement.

Credence woke slowly, ahead of Newt for once. It didn't take long before the fact that he was going to meet Dumbledore resurfaced, jerking him into a sitting position. Newt rolled over at Credence's movement, still half-asleep as he said dreamily,

"You all right?"

"Definitely."

Credence jumped from the bed, grabbing Newt's dressing gown along the way, hurrying around the house as though his mother were bearing down on him for being late, though he was brimming with excited energy.

Credence heard Newt following a short while later, rubbing his eyes sleepily as Credence flipped eggs on the pan and gestured to two slices of bread on the board,

"You're going to have to show me how you toast the bread with your wand, hey?" A pair of arms wrapped around his torso in reply, and breath tickled Credence's ear as Newt whispered huskily,

"The spell is urostilo." Credence turned to peck him on the lips, pausing to take in the faint constellation of freckles on his face as usual. Out of habit, Credence's eyes drifted over Newt's shoulder to the ticking clock: it was 7.30am. Credence stared harder: _yep._ Seven thirty in the AM. They had to meet Dumbledore at Hogsmeade in half an hour!

"Rhatz! Newt, we have to leg it."

Newt turned to glance at the clock, and suddenly he was very awake.   
Things moved quickly after that. They wolfed down their breakfast, split into their rooms to get dressed, and were ready in under 10 minutes.

When Credence came thundering down the stairs to meet Newt at the fireplace, he saw in a moment of stillness that they were both matching in dress: tweed trousers held up by suspenders, splayed across a stiff white shirt which was worn under an open vest. The only difference was Credence wore black trousers and Newt navy, and Newt topped his outfit off with a black hat tilted at an angle close enough to suggest impertinence. They were both still laughing when Credence stepped into the fireplace, chanting 'Hogsmeade' before the green flames whisked him away to the awaiting wizarding world.

NEWT'S POV

Credence looked spiffy. His style was starting to change, though still primarily black. His confidence was blossoming, and Newt couldn't get enough of that smile, which had started to become frequent and natural.

He kept glancing at Credence as they speed-walked down Hogsmeade street in long strides. Credence was rubber-necking around as he paced, and his open-mouthed wonder in the dawn of Hogsmeade sparked pride in Newt for some odd reason.

It was two minutes to eight as they strolled into the Three Broomsticks. The warm room was sparsely populated, so Newt and Credence reserved one of the best tables; by the window, overlooking the bustling street of colourful cloaks and floating, spiked hats. Down the slight hill in the clear morning atmosphere, Newt could see the tall spires of the Hogwarts castle floating behind a scrim of passing fog, like a mirage. He pointed it out to Credence. The clouds reflected in his pooled eyes as he asked,

"What is that place?"

"Hogwarts, of course!" Newt exclaimed. Credence's eyebrows rose.

"That's Hogwarts? It must be huge..."

"Gargantuam. Dumbledore probably chose Hogsmeade to meet because it's within walking distance. Some students are allowed to go on excursions to Hogsmeade." Newt paused, suddenly feeling nostalgic at the sight of the castle. "There's so many secrets to discover in Hogwarts. Of course, some secrets will never be found due to restrictions like the forbidden forest and such...but you'll be surprised how many new adventures you can find in a castle you've been living in for four years." Credence opened his mouth to say something, before the door jingled.

Newt turned to see an eccentric wizard with half-moon spectacles, auburn hair and a deep purple cloak stroll into the Three Broomsticks. He glanced around, and spotting Newt's wave, broke into a kind smile.

"Mr Scamander," He greeted warmly, strolling over and gripping Newt's outstretched hand.

"How are you sir?"

"Very good, very good."

Newt heard the scraping of a chair as Credence rose and jerked his hand forward. Dumbledore took it with a smile, though Newt could tell his arresting blue eyes were reading Credence right then.

"And you are Credence, I presume?"

"Yes sir."

"Very glad to be at your service Mr Barebone." Dumbeldore swept his cloak aside as he settled into a chair, and they mirrored him. He continued, "I'm going to set you at ease right now Credence. I'm pleased to say that although we haven't got a conventional plan set yet, I can tell you that you could be well on your way to a magical education -finally -" Dumbledore said with an exasperated smile, "Within a month, if all goes to plan." Credence's mouth turned upwards and Newt supressed a grin.

"That would be real wonderful. Thank you so much sir," Credence said, voice heavy with gratitude.

Dumbledore nodded kindly, and Newt could see Credence's shoulders relax. Newt rose, saying,

"I'll go grab us three butterbeers then, shall I?"

"Yes, that would go down wonderfully, thank you very much Newt," Dumbledore said. Newt cast Credence a reassuring smile -though he barely needed it - as he left the two alone.

CREDENCE'S POV

Before, Credence had been overwhelmed by the man's appearance and unnerved by his x-ray eyes. But now, even as Newt left Credence alone with Dumbledore, he felt surprisingly comfortable. Dumbledore's eyes were soft now. His expression kind and open. Credence tried to pinpoint the way he felt around this wizard...he thought that, maybe, he was feeling understood. Suddenly, Dumbledore was Credence's second favourite person, and he'd known him for one minute.

"So, Credence," Dumbledore began, leaning forward, "To what extent have you mastered your magic?" For a second, Credence saw Dumbledore's eyes flicker, and he worried that his question had meant something else, _Are you a danger any more?_ Did Dumbedore happen to know about Credence being a past obscurial? Credence chidded himself silently. _His eyes aren't that perceptive._ Nevertheless, Credence spoke cautiously,

"I got my first wand a few days ago." Dumbeldore nodded.

"Do you have it on you?" Credence pulled it from the inside of his vest wordlessly. Dumbledore held out a hand, and Credence placed his wand carefully on his palm. He watched Dumbledore's face as he examined the wand, though he was imperceptible. Dumbledore mumbled,

"Yew."

Credence nodded, though his eyebrows drew together. His curiosity pushed a question out of him, "Is there anything wrong with yew?" Dumbledore looked up, speaking slowly,

"It is known to be associated with powerful dark wizards. But," he cautioned, "It can just as easily be associated with wizard aligned to goodness." He handed the wand back to Credence with finality, and Credence put it away. He couldn't work the nerve to ask more, even as Dumbledore's kind smile turned on him.

"Has Newt taught you any spells, Credence?"

"Yes."

"Such as?"

"Wingardium Leviosa, aguamenti, accio, silencio, mobilicorpus and....a couple more. And I'm working on geminio."

"Did you complete all of these spells well?"

"Yes. Except geminio...I can only get an outline." He did not miss Dumbledore's slight raise of the eyebrows.

"You've done exceptionally well, Credence." Credence looked down at his hands.

"Thank you."

At that moment, Newt returned with three tall glasses of something butterscotch coloured. He placed one in front of each of them, and Credence lifted the glass to his lips. He closed his eyes to the taste; he could only describe it as the essence of warmth in the cold, with a kick of sweet. Dumbledore clasped his hands together and sat back,

"Thank you Newt. Now, let's talk about arrangements."

Out of the corner of his eye, Credence could see Newt lean forward in anticipation. He loved how involved he was, how he really cared as much about Credence's future as he did himself. Credence battled the urge to take Newt's hand in his own in appreciation as Dumbledore began, addressing Credence,

"A witch or wizard attends school for seven years. You could be in your sixth year by now, but, obviously, simply placing you amoungst the learned crowd of sixth year students would not work out, and neither would be putting you amoungst first graders. However, you have learnt many things in an extremely short amount of time," Dumbledore nodded approval to Newt, "Thank you for that Newt....and I believe you, Credence, could learn the skills of a sixth grader in two years or even less if you really put your mind to it. Would you be prepared to do that?" Credence inclined his head. He didn't know how to put words into reality at this point.

"Excellent." Dumbledore took a sip of his butterbeer. Newt pitched in,

"So will Credence be going to Hogwarts to learn, sir?" Dumbledore shook his head.

"I do not think so. The school environment will be quite unfamiliar to Credence, and most teachers will be much too busy to give him personal lessons." Dumbledore turned to Credence, and met his eyes. "But most is not all, and if I can get them on board, there will be a couple of teachers quite willing to give you lessons. I am not sure yet if it will be at Hogwarts. And..." He paused for effect, "I will be most happy to lend you my own time as well."

Credence sat back. The information he was trying to absorb seemed too good to sink. He stared at the beads of condensation on his glass and drew a smiley face onto it. He managed to look into Dumbledore's electric eyes as he gathered all his gratitude into the only words he could think of,

"Thank you very much."


	20. Libido

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING. Sorry for incoming cringe but good on you if you think it's readable hey ;)

CREDENCE'S POV

Credence sat in the Three Broomsticks with Dumbledore and Newt as they made rearrangements for his future, and was happy. Simply happy. Dumbledore's offload of information was interspersed with questions from Newt and limitless thanks from Credence. He hadn't known so much generosity existed in the world.  
Nothing was completely set as Dumbledore still had to find those teachers who would assist him, but all in all, great progress was made. It was hitting on ten o'clock as Dumbledore stood, shook hands with an overwhelmed but excited Credence and then Newt.

"See you soon, you two," Dumbledore said with a wink, and he walked out, his robes brushing the ground behind him. Credence turned to Newt with his mouth open slightly and saw Newt was a mirror of his own feelings.

"Can you believe this?" Credence mumbled, smiling, as he and Newt made their way out of the bar. Newt looped his arm through Credence's as they strolled into the sunlight.

"I don't know what that wink was about," Newt said with a grin.

"It was pretty suggestive. Does he know about us?"

"He's pretty perceptive, I've found."

They walked in time, the heels of their oxfords clicking the pavement as they made their way back to the public fireplaces. For once, Credence didn't stare around at the street and he didn't care that his arm was looped with another male person's. Instead, Credence's eyes were glued to Newt's face, whose lips appeared so kissable and eyes so green as Newt turned to lay the full strength of his gaze into Credence. Suddenly, Credence loved Newt so much more. His stomach lurched.

"What?" Newt said, laughing at Credence's stare, and Credence looked away, trying to bring his head out of the clouds.

"Nothing," He said simply, though he couldn't keep the smile from his lips or his fingers from fumbling on Newt's sleeve.

Unbidden fantasies popped into Credence's head and played out on a loop. The images grew steadily more daring as the two made their way to the fireplace. The scenes redoubled their effect on Credence as Newt pulled him to him in the shadow of the alleyway, his smile wolfish as he lay a kiss on Credence. Credence returned the kiss with more fervor that he could hold back. Something had taken a hold of him. The happiness had morphed into something more dangerous: lust.

NEWT'S POV

Newt didn't miss Credence's lustful stare. Not by a long shot. It left him exhilarated to the point where he could not help but pull Credence into a kiss so he could express his feelings with his movements.

Before long, they were twirling through the fireplace and were back in the privacy of Newt's home. Newt instantly took Credence's hand and started to lead him to his room, unthinking. He turned to check for Credence's reaction and was pleased; the Credence who had emerged when they'd lied on the blanket in the meadow yesterday was peeking through his reserved exterior with an almost devilish smile.

Newt tossed his hat to the carpet as he reached his room with Credence in tow, who turned and shut the door as Newt pulled the curtains shut, bringing soft, sensual darkness. Credence strolled over and rested his arms on Newt's shoulders, layed his soft lips on Newt's and began to slowly work him into a mania.

They kissed with unprecedented passion, without boundaries, and Credence pushed Newt against the bed until they fell in a hot heap on the soft duvet. Tongues entwined, with his eyes closed Newt ran his hands under Credence's shirt and over his lithe body. He worked as a blind man would to memorize every part of him. Credence breathed heavily, and he let Newt slide his suspenders off his shoulders and lift his shirt off so they could be touching. Newt did the same, reveling in the feel of his body against Credence's; the rise and fall of his chest, the movement of muscles beneath skin.

Credence swung his leg over Newt, straddling him, and ran his knuckles down his sides, grinning mischievously, and leant down to kiss his neck, and then chest, and then lower. Newt bucked under him at the feeling. He closed his eyes and soaked up the shivers. Credence's hands and mouth worked him like a wild steed, until he got to his pant line and stopped.

Newt opened his eyes and his hands went to his pants, then paused. He cupped Credence's cheek, innocent but not, beautiful but untamed.

"Will you let me?" He asked quietly. Credence nodded decidedly once, and slid off Newt so he could let his pants drop. Beneath, Newt's underwear was hard, but he tried to ignore it as he placed a hand on Credence's chest and pushed him into the pillows and proceeded to kiss him slowly, sensually, down the line of his stomach to his pants and paused. He asked,

"Can I Creed?"

Credence breathed, "Do as you want."

Newt, watching closely for a sign of hesitation that Credence never showed, took Credence's pants and slid them down. He tossed them to the floor and smiled at the bulge in Credence's underwear and kissed his lips delicately.

He drawled, "I'll show you a good time, don't worry..." and stroked Credence's inner thigh and kissed him there. He trailed his fingers under Credence's underwear then and slowly slid them down. He swallowed at the sight.

Newt trailed the tip of his tongue down Credence's pelvis, and then down his length. He watched Credence's back arch, and then he took his hard member into his mouth and felt with his tongue around the head and then up. His warm saliva let Newt move seamlessly.

Credence's eyes shut tightly and his mouth opened, and he let out a delicious sound of wanton.

Newt worked his mouth up and down Credence's length. Credence's hand flew to Newt's hair, taking it lightly, struggling not to grip and pull, Newt could tell. He sucked harder, and Credence let out a heavy sigh, and he took Newt's hair with more force now, pushing his head harder up and down.

"Jesus..." He cursed. Newt's hand slid down his own underwear and gripped his own penis at the sight of Credence's pleasure turning him on, and he built speed and strength, wanting to draw moans from Credence, and he did. Credence moved his hips with Newt's mouth, shoving himself down Newt's throat without hesitation. His libido drove him to swear at god in a way that turned Newt strangely carnal.

CREDENCE'S POV

Credence forgot about hesitation when they got home. All he knew was craving and longing and then nothing else as Newt took his pants off and then his underwear and then.... _holy crap._ Then all he knew was euphoria.

Newt's mouth drove him insane. He worked up and down, and Credence couldn't help forcing him harder. Faster. He couldn't stop himself gripping Newt's hair and pushing him onto his penis. Newt replied eagerly. The feel of pure pleasure was a sweet shock, like the first splatter of rain after a long drought. After that taste, a torrent followed, and it built and then built again. He couldn't help letting sounds out. He moaned under Newt, arched and ached as the pleasure forced his eyes shut and then, when Credence thought he couldn't build any more,

"Newt," He moaned out, "I'm going to-" But Newt kept going, and then it peaked. The climax reached and broke, and Credence threw his head back and cried in out ecstasy as the torrent poured into the hollowness of him, sending life surging from his core to the very tips of his fingers and toes. So delicious it was, so powerful, that his head reeled and his groin throbbed and his skin tingled and OH NEWT YES and Newt kissed Credence up from the depths of bliss.

He finally opened his eyes. Newt lied down beside him, eyes twinkling. Credence, panting, leaned over placed a kiss on each cheek, then flopped back in the pillows, exposed, as Newt's fingers brushed his arms. They lay there for a while, serene and satisfied.

Eventually Credence felt stronger, and then he found he wanted to give Newt something in return. He caught Newt's hand, and kissed each of his knuckles, whispering seductively in between,

"Now you have had your way with me...I shall have my way with you." Newt broke into a devilish smile.

"Oh yeah?"

Newt rolled over so his chest was pressed against Credence's. Credence could feel his stiff member against his thigh. He pressed on,

"What is it you'd like, Mr Scamander?" He massaged Newt's lower back.

Newt tapped his chin theatrically, and he grew somber.

"I'd like to try something."

Credence nodded encouragingly, "Yes?"

"I've never tried it before though."

Credence laughed.

"I should think not!" He joked. Newt broke out of his serious expression with a smirk. His expression grew darker with lust as he asked,

"Will you turn over?"

Credence did. He felt exposed but not uncomfortable as Newt lifted him with hands on his waist so he was in the dog position. Credence jumped a little as Newt ran his hands down his bare back and over his butt, then lent over and whispered into his ear, "If I ever hurt you in any way, you'll tell me won't you?" Credence nodded, now a little wary.

"What are you planning to do?" He inquired, voice husky.

"Anal," Newt replied shortly. Credence wasn't sure if what he'd heard was what he'd actually heard, but he stayed still, until something strange and only faintly painful happened.

He flinched as what he knew was a finger slid slowly into his butt, then another. Credence hissed.

"Should I stop?" He heard Newt say. _Yes. No._ Credence wanted to let Newt have his own pleasure. So he made an effort to unclench his teeth,

"No. Just do it."

"Just relax," Newt said soothingly. Credence did, and then he found it easier. Newt continued, and out of the corner of his eye, Credence saw him use his other hand to open the drawer beside his bed and take out a tube of lube. After a moment, he took his fingers out of Credence, and then Credence felt something different and wholly more comfortable slide inside him.


	21. Content

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning to you vanilla children

NEWT'S POV

Newt gripped and lifted Credence's hips and rocked into him. For a second, he feared he would hurt Credence, but Credence made no complaint. And soon, Newt forgot about everything as he pressed his member into Credence. He did it again, and again, until he got a beat, and he thrusted harder, drawing pleasure from Credence. He pelvis throbbed in pleasure. Involuntarily, Newt's eyes shut and he chocked back a sound when he hit the right spot. And when he hit it, his heart raced and fingers of electricity shot from his pelvis and formed in his throat, until he was moaning against Credence with each in-and-out.

The bed swayed as Newt built pressure and went in deeper and deeper until he could go no more and he was hitting the sweet spot with every flex. Every thrust built the load, and he pushed the boundary without thinking, until the beatific had him reeling.

He pulled against Credence aggressively, and for a second he almost stopped when he opened his eyes and saw Credence's face was contorted, before he realised Credence wore a mask of bliss, not pain. At this realisation, Newt drove into Credence without limits, more forceful than he'd ever been, and building pressure beyond sanity.

The ecstasy was so profound and extreme that when Newt reached the climax, he came without warning.

He pulled out of Credence without thinking and came over his lower back and the sheets. _Shit._ Newt's chest heaved in the wake of the ecstasy, and he fell onto the pillows beside Credence, weak. He felt hands trailing down his back as Credence snuggled next to him and kissed his neck. Newt smiled and whispered,

"Sorry about that." Credence's laugh was breathy.

"I don't care."

Newt felt a tingling down his spine. He was barely over his ejaculation and Credence was already making his body do things. He flopped over, saying,

"You're teasing me Creed."

Credence smiled devilishly and pushed him into the pillows. Newt's head fell back, and he felt cool lips brush his neck, and then a peppering of tender kisses along his jawline and down his jugular.

CREDENCE'S POV

Once Newt had gotten into a rhythm, Credence found he could enjoy and even revel in Newt's movement. He found the new experience exciting, and he loved the sounds Newt made. He even found Newt's jizzing on him erotic. Who would have thought?

Now, as they lay sunken in the bed, Credence tracked his finger down Newt's spine and watched goose flesh rise. Newt turned over, and Credence grinned at his frown.

"You're teasing me Creed."

Credence responded by pushing Newt into the pillows and trailing his lips along the soft pale skin of his exposed neck. He paused on Newt's pulse points and nipped him softly, drawing sighs. Credence was closely acquainted with Newt's body, but he wanted to get closer. He pressed himself on top of Newt and embraced him, and placed his chin on his chest, peering into his eyes. Newt's pupils were blown wide in the darkness, and Credence was reminded of a prowling cat, jade-green eyes gleaming, movements slinky as he drew the sheets over them and kissed Credence fearlessly, as a predator would, hidden in the darkness from all the world.

*

The sun's light was barely a suggestion against the coming navy night by the time the two emerged from Newt's room. Credence, wrapped in one of two of Newt's robes, opened in windows to let the mountain's breeze in. Crickets chirped and the grass whispered.

After dinner, Newt took Credence's hand and lead him to the bathroom.  
"I think we should have a bath," he said, and magicked light into the hurricane lamps and lit the taper candles so they flickered against the inky darkness. The bath was filled with water, and the steam rising off it swirled as the breeze worked through the cracks in the weatherboards, which had warped in the weather. It was characteristic. 

Credence dropped his robe and slid into the piping hot water. Newt slid into the other side, and his weight brought the water up to their necks. It sloshed over the side a bit. The water relaxed Credence, and Newt helped sooth him even more as he took his feet and messaged them under the water. Credence did the same, and laid his head back. His heavy eyes drifted to the ceiling, and he saw that a vine had made it's way through from outside and was trailing along the ceiling. It had spread and blossomed. Groups of heavy yellow buds hung from the vine, which flourished in the hothouse environment.

An owl hooted softly to accompany the crickets, and content, Credence closed his eyes, feeling Newt's warm presence permeate it all.


	22. Otherworldy

Credence’s POV

The water in the bath had cooled considerably and Credence's fingers were very wrinkled, but he didn't feel the need to move.   
Credence didn’t know what made him remember, but he was suddenly thinking about the Lestrange boy he had seen, days ago, in Olivander’s store and then the clothing store. He lifted his head from the edge of the bath.  
“Newt?”  
“Hmmm?”  
“Do you know who the Lestrange family is?”  
Newt’s fingers, which had been tickling Credence’s foot, paused for a moment. He lifted his head,   
“There was a girl from that family...back at Hogwarts. She was in my grade,” he said smugly.   
He stopped. Credence stayed silent. This was apparently a sore spot for Newt; His expression had taken on a darker quality. He spoke quietly, “It’s true, the Lestrange’s have an apparently genetic mean streak. _I_ thought she was different though. We were friends... but she acted up a bit. Got into detention. Provoked teachers.” Newt smiled bitterly. “She was in Slytherin. I don’t know how we became friends. We just did. And I liked to follow along with her plans and adventures. I guess I was drawn to the action.” Newt’s eyes had wondered to the flowering vine on the ceiling and stayed there as he spoke.   
“One day we did something we really shouldn’t have. We got called to principle Dippett's office for it…and I thought she would stick up for me, since I hadn’t done anything wrong, and she was the one who'd done it. I thought…well…” Newt chuckled darkly. “Long story short, she put the whole blame on me.”   
Newt dropped his eyes to Credence’s.  
“I’m sorry Newt,” Credence said sincerely. Betrayal hurt, and he knew that better than anyone. Newt inclined his head, then continued.  
“Dumbledore, who was a new teacher at the time, saw through her story. He tried to help. But what could he do? I was expelled.”   
He spat the last word. Credence looked on in sadness. He didn’t know what to say, so he let the silence ring on. Finally, he decided he should reciprocate.   
“You know that boy who was in Olivander’s that day?” Newt jerked out of his distant stare.  
“What about him?”  
“Well….I have my own experience with the Lestrange family. You know when we went to the clothing store afterwards?” Newt nodded. “ _He_ was there. And…” Credence rubbed the back of his neck. “...And he mocked me.”   
Newt sat up straighter, eyebrows now drawn together.   
“Why didn’t you tell me?”   
Credence let out a sigh. “I don’t know. That sort of thing happened to me in New York all the time. You just learn to not say anything.”   
Newt stiffened. “What’d he do?”  
“Just said my hair was stupid,” Credence laughed, trying to lighten the mood. Newt didn’t join him.  
“You should have told me. I’d kick his butt.” He sounded completely serious, and Credence smiled and said,  
“Thanks.”  
“You’re welcome.” Newt let a small smile break, and the dark mood shifted. “And by the way, I love your hair,” he added. He leant forward and brushed his fingers across Credence’s face, who closed his eyes to the touch.

*

Newt’s POV

The next morning, Newt was sweeping the floor and Credence washing the dishes when he remembered the book he was supposed to be writing.   
“Ooops,” Newt muttered. Credence turned at his voice.  
“What?”  
“Somehow I’ve forgotten that I’m supposed to be writing my book.”  
Credence wiped his soapy hands on a teatowel then placed them on his hips. “You didn’t tell me you were writing a book.”  
Newt smiled sheepishly. “Honestly, I’ve been thoughly distracted!” Credence rose his eyebrows. Newt chuckled and leant the brrom against a wall then walked over to Credence. He ran his hands up his bare arms before kissing those pouting lips softly. Credence instantly dropped the ‘annoyed’ act and cupped Newt’s neck, deepening the kiss in reply, before he seemed to remember he was supposed to be angry and pulled away. Newt tried not to pull him back.  
“ _Newt,_ what are you writing?”   
“Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. There’s not many books on magizoology out there, and I think my passion for magical animals should fill the niche. I have a couple of spots of research still though…”   
Credence looked at him with lazy regard. Newt let his eyes smooth over Credence, and whatever else he had been about to say strayed away.   
“Newt,” Credence said, his name rolling off his tongue. He didn’t continue, though he stepped forward, eyes lidded. Newt’s curious fingers played with the buttons of Credence’s shirt. Credence stepped closer and brushed his lips against Newt’s throat, and Newt knew he didn't care that Newt hadn't told him about the book any more.  
“But I digress-” Newt mananged, and seized Credence’s waist, rubbing circles in his hips and kissing his throat instead.   
Credence sighed, his breath warm on Newt’s skin. He pressed against Newt and walked him backwards before pushing him into an armchair and straddling him. His body heat sent Newt lewd, and he made a soft sound of wanton as Credence’s lips ghosted over his. Newt pushed his lips over Credence’s and slid his hands under Credence’s shirt, gripping his waist and pulling his closer until they were flush.   
Credence slipped his hands under Newt’s sweater and meshed his lips against Newt’s more urgently. His fingertips felt like they were charged. They left hot trails on Newt’s stomach, drawing a convulsive shiver from him and he gasped. Credence took the chance to lick into his mouth. _Oh God...._ Newt took hold of Credence’s hair in reply, tilting his chin so they slotted together more fully. Credence bared his hips down on Newt’s and began grinding against him.   
In these moments, Newt felt as though there were temporary world peace. He was wrapped in a heaven made of raging desire and docile love. With Credence, he felt like he left the plane of reality. He couldn’t feel the chair beneath him or hear the wind because all that emotion narrowed down into his body’s buzz made thinking unnecessary. Just effortless, thoughtless movement.  
Eventually, though, bodies have to have a break....they, unfortunately, have to have oxygen.  
They both came up for air, panting heavily, and Credence leaned his forehead against Newt’s and breathed, “I’m so in love with you.” Newt smiled lazily.  
“I’m in love with you too.”


End file.
